Magna Shalom
by River Eyes
Summary: After disappearing five years ago, Ciel's older sister has finally returned to the manor. She wants a life with the people she left behind, but she has more than a few secrets under her skin. Sebastian is determined to claim what is his. And Ciel, still haunted by the past, finds that they must fight to preserve their lives. Later chaps include chars from Circus arc and Weston arc.
1. Prologue: On a Fine February Evening

**Hello fellow Kuroshitsuji fans, and thank you for considering my story!**

**This story is set in a slightly AU universe, mostly because I thought it would be lazy to just copy the plot from the original series. However, many of the original characters and concepts from Kuroshitsuji will still make their way into this story. They will just be used in new and different ways. **

**I realize that in the manga and anime, Sebastian is only able to assume the form of a crow. However, here I have him turning into a cat, because it just seems to fit him better. Also, I'm pretty sure that as a demon, he is powerful enough to transform himself into whatever he wants. **

**I will provide more pre-story notes if and when they are needed, but for the most part my readers can just discover things at their own reading pace. **

**That said, I hope you enjoy my story! :)**

Prologue

On a fine February evening, in a stately manor house set in the countryside to the north of London, chaos reigned supreme. The curtains were not drawn, as they normally would have been to keep out the evening chill, and if a visitor to that house were to have peered in through the windows, they would have observed a great deal of women running about on every floor, every one of them engaged in some urgent activity. Maids were carrying sheets up the stairs and heating pans of water over the kitchen fireplace. Seamstresses were congregating around flat boxes in certain bedrooms, lifting tiny outfits up to the light and scrutinizing them. Nurses bent in a huddle outside of a single bedroom door, the only room in the house to have its curtains drawn. From this room, the painful cries of a woman could be heard, pouring fourth into the night.

_She will deliver with pain the life that is inside of her. Their soul is stretching. The little one is fluttering._

Incidentally, there was someone watching the people in the manor house through the windowpanes; however, this creature was not exactly human. Out in the front gardens, upon a pathway ledge that ran near to the building, the elongated body of a black feline slid through the night, padding silently from one window to another. All of the men in the house seemed to be segregated in just one room downstairs, a drawing room, where they paced and smoked and waited. The black cat put its paws up on the window through which the seamstresses were still unpacking tiny pieces of clothing from yet another box, and watched them for awhile. Clothes that now hung empty and useless would soon serve a purpose. As soon as….

_As soon as she comes. The soul will be clothed in flesh, and the flesh will be covered in life. Now, now she is coming….what shall this one be like, I wonder? Will she look at me with the same hateful face as her mother?_

A shout of agony rained down into the gardens. Nurses and maids were hurrying in and out of the bedroom doorway, carrying clean sheets and hot water and yes, yes, a tiny scissors…._she will take on a life of her own. As soon as she opens her eyes she will be transmuted, no longer part of a larger whole, but a whole separate being of her own._

The woman was sobbing in the upstairs bedroom.

_Does she cry because she is losing that constant togetherness, that smothering bond? It will be a shock for them both to be separated. The baby will cry too, soon, soon…._

Groans of pain were heard, intermingled with frantic gasps. Inside the house, people stopped running in and out of the room. The ones who had been left outside pressed up against the door, listening, listening….

_The voice of the universe is speaking. I wonder if they can hear it? I cannot, but I know it is here, for the soul is separating into two bodies. In the back of my dark eyes, I can see it. She is coming now. _

A long, drawn-out scream from the bedroom shattered the momentary stillness of the night. Outside, the cat jumped down from the window ledge and sat among the tall grasses, facing the house.

_She is here._

Now the woman was crying again, but no longer with pain. Her voice had taken on a higher pitch, a cry of praise and joy. Joining her in this cry was the sound of the soft, stunned first wails of a newborn child. Outside the bedroom, the nurses clasped each others' hands and performed involuntary little dances as the head midwife leaned out of the doorway and announced that the baby was healthy and fine. One of the women ran downstairs with the news, into the drawing room, and the next minute, a young, careworn-looking man in a black suit raced up the steps. Eyes wide and eager, he strode into the bedroom to meet his daughter. The cries of the baby gradually ceased.

Outside of the manor, the cat heard the grinding of a carriage as it approached the country house. It had barely halted by the steps before the door was kicked open and an angry-looking man stormed out its door and into the manor. The servants scattered in his wake, and he proceeded straight to the drawing room. The men who were already there all gathered around him, and they were soon joined by a stately-looking elderly couple, the parents of the woman upstairs. While the angry man ranted and waved his arms, the whole room nodded empathetically at his words while the cat watched from outside.

_Not even an hour old, and already she is being plotted against. Such a family of vipers that I must serve. But her soul is now her own._

However, no matter what was going on downstairs, whenever one of the drawing room party tried to venture up the steps in order to spy on the couple in the bedroom, they were always turned away by the polite, yet firm presence of a later-aged man with gray, wiry hair and a monocle in one eye. He stood guard at the bottom of the grand staircase, and nothing interfered with the new family's happiness that night.

It was much, much later in the night, around 2:00 in the morning, when the cat finally moved from its covert place among the grasses. The bedroom which had been used for the birthing had been vacated while it was cleaned and aired out, and the new family was now scattered around the house. The careworn man slept in a small, out of the way bedroom downstairs, with his shoes on and a miniature revolver clasped in his right hand. Outside of his temporary bedroom, the man with the monocle stood silent guard, staring down the dark and empty hallway. The woman slept upstairs in a corner room, under the watchful eye of a trained midwife, who had been ordered to keep a night's vigil over the woman for reasons of her unstable health. The child, only a few hours old, was tucked in a cradle in the bedroom that would be hers, while another midwife rocked in a chair close beside her. Barely awake, the older woman's legs gave a sleepy jerk, and she rose and decided to take a walk down to the kitchen, so that she might brew herself something to keep her awake until morning. As soon as she'd slipped out the door, the cat trotted over to the place beneath the bedroom's window, leaped nimbly onto the wall, and began climbing, digging its amazingly durable claws into the wood. He had been ordered not to cross the house's doorway until he was called for, but he was not planning on going in through the door, anyway.

_Humans and their numerous loopholes. Too easy._

Perching on the outside windowsill, the black cat stared through the glass at the cradle, half-bathed in moonlight and covered in a cloud of innocent sleep. Pressing a paw up against the crack in the window's opening, the cat brought his long claws out and hooked them onto the latch, flipping it over without a sound. He nudged the window and it swung inward relentingly, and a black figure stepped down from the windowsill into the bedroom. It was no longer that of a cat. The form of a tall, thin man, clad entirely in black clothing which contrasted with his pale, porcelain skin, walked silently over to the cradle and gazed down at the baby within. The man who had been a cat, and who was in truth neither a man nor a cat at all, but a demon, possessed a hauntingly handsome face and a perfectly proportioned body. His hair, which was also black, flowed elegantly down the sides of his face but did not quite reach his shoulders. His mouth was quirked upward into an expression of curiosity, and the eyes that watched the baby were a deep, gleaming red.

Softly, he bent over the cradle, listening to the tiny breaths of the sleeping child. Her hair was a pale patch of fuzz atop her head, and her face was round and doughy. The rest of the child was wrapped up snugly in a woolen blanket, keeping the early Spring chill from reaching her brand-new body.

"Hello, little one. Welcome to the world. I am pleased that you have come."

The man's voice was deep and pleasant to the ear, no outer part of him besides his eyes betraying him for what he really was. However, newly attuned to her human instincts, the baby girl awoke at its sound. Sky-blue eyes opened widely, taking in the man before her without a sound. The demon bowed his head, speaking as if to an adult. "As the oldest child of your mother, I present myself to you as your birthright. You shall be my final master. I shall belong to you completely and be bound to obey your every command, as were the terms of my contract with your great-great-great-grandfather, little one, for the price of his soul. Because of your ancestor's ambition, every wish and desire which you bear shall be granted. Before you leave your childhood, you will accept my mark, and I shall become one hell of a butler for you. Let us henceforth accept our places as master and servant, little one."

The baby made a small sound, and the dark-haired demon straightened himself and turned to leave before she started crying and summoned the midwife back from downstairs. His current master would be most displeased if she found out that he was visiting her child without her presence. He'd made it halfway to the window when he noticed that the room was still silent. Intrigued, the demon backtracked across the carpet and once again bent over the cradle, staring down at the tiny child and making no attempt to camouflage the frightening color of his eyes. The baby did not seem affected. She stared back up at her unexpected guest in a bemused fashion, breathing calmly.

"You're not going to cry and be afraid of me, little one? How very interesting…."

_I wonder if perhaps…._

Although it went against his instincts, the demon slowly reached down into the cradle and wrapped his thin, long-fingered hands around the small child. Just as slowly, he lifted her up and held her out in front of him, scrutinizing the tiny face. The baby yawned and gurgled peaceably, seeming to be all right with this arrangement. Experimentally, he tucked her against his shoulder and meandered over to the window with her, gazing out into the night. There was a rush of air, and suddenly neither the demon nor the child could be found within the room. One story up, they were perched upon a large gable on the rooftop, open sky above them and the world stretched out around them. The demon's long fingers caressed the back of the child as he considered the manor estate before him. The baby squirmed in his arms, and a single tiny hand reached out of the folds of the blanket to brush against the man's head. She made a low, puzzled-sounding noise in her throat, and the red eyes were pulled downward.

"It must be strange for you to be here, yes, little one? I wonder if your soul is still accustomed to _that_ place. Do you remember it?" the deep voice purred, the eyes taking on an almost greedy sheen. "But you are here on earth now, and quickly will you pass from eternity into eternity. Human life is pitifully short, and the condition of your kinds' bodies is truly deplorable- so weak and fragile. It seems impossible that The Named would ever choose to manifest Himself in one such as yourself, and yet…." the demon mused softly, cradling the child in his arms and staring down at her, "I can sense your soul, little one. It is your own."

The baby's only reply to all of this was a strong, definite, "Meh!" as her arms came up and waved around purposelessly in the air. The demon grinned, a feral, amused smile as he played with her fingers. "You will have many difficulties in life, for you have not been born under sacred wedlock, little one. The husband of your mother is a cruel, ruthless man, and his heart is filled with hatred for your father and for your very existence. Someday I will devour his soul in hell, and then you will be rid of him. However, while he is alive, you can overcome him with me by your side. It matters not who your father is, only that you are the firstborn child of your mother, Rachel Phantomhive. It is your family line whom I have been bound to serve for six generations, ever since I accepted the price paid by that fool of a man. With all of my work, the name of Phantomhive has become one of the top business names in Europe. You will not want for anything material in your life, little one. Even now, when you barely possess a will…." The demon hitched his shoulders, feeling the formation of a second, scarcer set of needles underneath his porcelain skin. "I can feel the hold you have over me. Heh, this is going to make me rather uncomfortable until you learn to focus that will and give commands. Until then, I will take care of you….my, you _are_ an interesting one, are you not? So quiet. I know you can sense what I am, so why do you not cry?"

The baby gurgled a set of gibberish words, peering up at the demon sedately while the unholy creature pondered, staring at the ground. Overhead, a shooting star flashed through the night, and the light caught in the baby's eyes. The demon did not see it. Eventually, tapping his chin in thought, he lifted his eyes and observed the child. "I wonder…."

Moving slowly, he pulled off the white glove that covered his right hand, flexing his long, pale fingers in the air. Even more slowly, he reached down toward the baby, still cradled in his opposite arm. "This will probably make you cry, little one, but it won't hurt you….I only want to stand in the light of your soul. Be good now…." At once, he curled his fingers around the child's right arm, touching skin-to-skin for the first time. The baby girl's blue eyes widened in surprise as the red eyes of the demon slid closed in relief. The night remained silent.

After a few moments, the demon opened one of his red eyes curiously and stared down at the baby, who had currently discovered her other hand and begun to suck on it. She seemed to sense that an abnormality was occurring, another creature's presence in the space created only for herself, but she seemed supremely unbothered by it. The demon's eyebrow raised. "Oh? Still no crying? What a little oddity you are! Good girl….so you don't mind sharing, hmmm? Perhaps you won't be so much like your mother, after all. That would be most agreeable, little one. She hates that I exist. She blames me for your family's vilification by the Church. She has not acknowledged me for years. She knows the nature of my condition, but she prefers to let me burn….is that fair, little one? I've served her for her whole life, and she refuses to even share a tiny bit of her light with me, to quell the pain of the fire which I am cursed to carry with me for eternity. But perhaps her daughter will make up for her lack of generosity, yes? Good girl…."

The demon laughed a little, brushing his black hair out of his eyes with his still-gloved hand. "Oh my, I seem to be talking quite a lot, don't I? This is most unusual….but then again, I suppose it's all right. You have no idea what I'm saying, and you won't remember any of this. Just keep on being good, my master. Your soul is like a balm to me."

There was silence on the rooftop again as the baby continued to suck on her hand, and the demon savored the unexpected respite from his constant agony which his new master's allowance provided him. The baby was….different from other humans. There was no denying this truth. Her soul looked and felt no different, admittedly, but anyone else would have pushed him out upon feeling another creature basking in the light of the soul that belonged to them. This child did not seem concerned. It was as if she knew that her own light did not diminish upon being shared, which was a thing that few humans of any age understood. He hoped very much that she would continue being like this. He doubted that his current master would give him express permission, but if he could spend just enough time around the child to teach her not to fear him, to give him consideration as a fellow creature, maybe, just maybe….

_I could change my situation through this child. I could have the kind of master that_ I _want._

It was a long shot, but the demon promised himself that he would try. He didn't think that he could take another lifetime of the abuse and disregard which he had suffered in the past. The child showed promise. He kept his right hand wrapped around the child's arm as his left began petting her hair, both the demon and the baby staring up into the stars. Quietly, he murmured, "That's right, you don't have a name yet, do you, little one? You'll be given one in the morning, I don't doubt. Just for tonight then, I suppose we are the same. Only you will never remember what it felt like to be nameless."

The baby yawned, unconcerned with this just as she'd been with everything else he'd said. Slowly, she began to drift off as the demon closed his red eyes, using his extraordinary senses to check on the condition of the house. The midwife was leaving the kitchen holding a steaming mug of early-brewed coffee before her as she headed toward the staircase. It was time to return his little master to her cradle. Standing softly, the demon and the baby disappeared in another fresh swoosh of air, and one story downward, through the open window, a tall, black-clad man could be seen tucking the baby back into bed. Knowing that he had not yet absorbed enough of her light to grant him continued reprieve from the flames of his eternal curse, the demon kept his hands locked around the baby's fleshy arms until he absolutely had to let go. Bending over the still body of the child, he whispered, "Sleep well, my master. It would make me very happy if you would keep your soul open to me. Be a good girl." Finally releasing her, the figure of the man hunched over the crib bars, twisting and convulsing in pain as the flames flared up again. A single groan arose from somewhere deep inside him, and the baby girl opened her eyes and stared at the demon as he suffered. Perhaps used to touching him by now, one of her tiny hands came up unexpectedly, and patted her visitor on the face. Chuckling stiffly, the demon gave her a fang-toothed smile as he leaned in to her touch, allowing it to seep inside him, trying to internalize its power….

The next moment, the midwife swung open the door, and beheld the scene exactly as she'd left it. The rocking chair was still, the crib glowing in moonlight, the window closed. Ambling over to the cradle, she leaned in and saw the baby sleeping exactly as she had left her, her doughy face still and silent. She walked back over to the rocking chair and sat down, taking generous sips of her coffee as she watched the moon and waited for daybreak. Outside the house, the black cat slid back down the wall silently, landing into his old spot in the grass. After he had paced back and forth in front of all the windows, and concluded that nothing was going on inside, the cat leaped onto the pathway wall and stared in silence up at the window through which slumbered his new, strange master. He thought of her bright little soul, and how odd it was that even though she'd just acquired a soul of her own, she had been so willing to share its light with him. Yes, she definitely had promise. Inside, the demon was aware that all that this whole night entailed was merely another birth of another, regular human, but….even so….

Puzzled at his inability to finish that sentence, the cat tilted his black-furred head to one side and proceeded to wait for the morning, with the hope that he might be allowed back inside to begin to take care of his new little master. She had a frayed, tumultuous youth ahead of her, this the demon knew well, but for now he did not begrudge her sleep and the ignorance it brought. Let her be a child for as long as she could. The demon already belonged to her, and soon, she would belong to him in kind.

Overhead, the sky was awash with the faraway points of stars. They shimmered and whispered to each other as the demon, deaf and blind to such things as a part of his curse, sat outside and stared at the one light which he could behold, the tiny little seedling of his master's soul.


	2. Eighteen Years Later

**Notes pertaining to this chapter:**

**I am aware that one of my characters has a cell phone, and that cell phones did not exist in Victorian England. There's no need to tell me this. :) However, since they use cell phones in both the manga and anime adaptations of Kuroshitsuji, (the chapters where Ciel gets kidnapped by the Italian gangster and Sebastian rescues him,) I felt that it would be all right to fit them into my humble story. ^.^**

**I largely derive my understanding of what a demon is from Christian theology, since that's what I know, and I don't have time to go messing around studying other theories that say that they're aliens or descended from half-mortals or something like that. So in this story, demons are what they traditionally are; fallen angels. Hell is their place of punishment, and although they aren't confined there all the time (however, they can get stuck there for some time,) they are cursed by having a portion of the fires of hell attached to their spirits permanently, which they have to carry with them everywhere they go. This is very painful for them, and their main goal (aside from obtaining human souls to 'eat',) is to find some temporary relief from their eternal curse. Basically, demons are very powerful, but it still kind of sucks to be one….poor Sebastian. :'( Many of the spiritual/demonic aspects that I include in this story have been gleaned from the Bible and other religious texts, such as the 'restlessness' of demons (they can't sleep) and the 'worm of hell.' Others I will have simply made up, because I'm a writer an I can take creative liberties. :) Anyway, sorry for long author's note. On with the story! **

Eighteen years later

Sebastian Michealis did not have to wake up, as he was incapable of going to sleep to begin with. Instead, the demon slowly extricated himself from his regular nighttime post by the large window in his room, and began the process of preparing for yet another day. It was going to be a troublesome one, given all the Phantomhive relatives that had been coming around lately….Sebastian sighed, brushing a lock of silky black hair out of his face. He preferred to be left alone here, and he knew that his young master preferred it that way as well. He hoped that this would be over soon.

Slipping on his black swallowtail jacket in front of the hallway mirror, the demon observed himself in its stoic glass. His ageless, pale face peered out from under a cover of almost shoulder length black hair, while the hair nearer to the back of his head was shorn at a shorter length. His eyes, deep, blood-red, cast slowly over his immaculate butler's attire, not a wrinkle in sight nor a button askance. Satisfied with his appearance, he left the mirror behind, treading noiselessly down the hall to a room in the back of the servants' quarters. There, half-asleep on the table, as always, sprawled a gardener, and cook, a maid, and….Tanaka. Even Sebastian wasn't sure what the elderly, forgetful old man's function was here anymore, but Tanaka he was all right with, oddly enough. The other three, however….

Clapping his white-gloved hands authoritatively, he jolted the four of them out of their half-slumber and fixed them all with a stern gaze. "Everyone, I know that the past two weeks have been trying at best, but please attempt to refrain from sleeping when you should be alert. That said, today we will be entertaining more of the Phantomhive relatives, so the manor must remain spotless. Meirin, I want you to see to the linens and wash the floors at the bottom of the grand staircase." The red-haired, clumsily dressed maid jerked her head up and down in a nod, blushing slightly. "Finnian, the south garden requires weeding and watering." The child-like eyes of the blonde, thatch-haired gardener widened eagerly as he nodded. "Bard, prepare the meals, as per usual." The slightly older, muscular man grunted in assent, scratching the back of his head. "And Mr. Tanaka….it would be good if you would go and have some tea." Laughing in an absent sort of way, the gray-haired man with a monocle in one eye smiled at the demon. "Provided that you have understood your duties, off you go. Step lively, and no more dozing!"

Hollering, "Yes sir, Mr. Sebastian!" the three younger servants steamrolled out of the room with perhaps….too much alert enthusiasm….while the gray-haired man tottered out after them with a bemused smile still on his face. The door swung shut after them, and Sebastian found himself left alone in the servants' dining room. Drawing in a settling breath, he walked over to the narrow window and stared outside, trying to discern the owners of the carriages which he could see gradually pulling up at the front steps. Bother this family of vipers and their ceaseless coming! He knew perfectly well that all of them were only here to protect their share of the inheritance, assuming that the decrepit old man really was going to die within the week. Why he'd requested to take up residence in the south wing of the Phantomhive estate while he lay dying, the demon would never understand. It probably had something to do with some sort of sentimental feeling for the place, given that he'd been raised there. But it would have been scandalous for his master to refuse the last request of the dying patriarch of the family, so the old man had moved in about two weeks ago….and the storm of greedy relations had hit the manor with full force. Humans were so pitiful.

Biting his pale lip, Sebastian glared out at the carriages in supreme annoyance, preparing himself to go upstairs and begin obediently serving their inhabitants, damn them. But as the demon turned away, something made him stop. Something in the atmosphere….it had snuck in so quietly, he hadn't noticed it before when he'd been moving and speaking. Only now, when he held still, could he really detect the change….the spiritual pressure in the air had changed. It was thicker, and suffused with light. It almost felt….tangible, like he could touch the light….astonished, the demon placed his hand to his chest, where he could feel the ever-present burning subsiding. His curse was being diluted by what could only be the expansive light of a human soul. Nearby. But that didn't make sense, he had served each and every one of the people here today many times before, had laid eyes on their souls, and none of them had possessed anything that even came near to this. If he was right, then this was a phenomenon that he had not seen for hundreds of years, at least….Sebastian pressed his face against the window, scanning the aristocrats and their servants as they disembarked from their carriages and proceeded up the steps. Normal soul, normal soul, normal soul….they were all normal souls, about the size of an acorn and with the light intensity of a burning candle. _Where_ was this light coming from? It shimmered tantalizingly all around him, but the demon couldn't discern the human source without laying his eyes upon them. He had to find them. Whirling around, he strode out the door of the small dining room, marveling at the freedom from pain which he hadn't felt for a long, long time….the fire, which was always a burning agony inside of him, had been diluted to a level of almost-manageable hurt. What would happen if he could actually _touch_ the source….? Quickening his steps at the prospect, the demon hurried down the corridor and vanished up the drab staircase in a matter of seconds.

/

Outside of the manor gates, a springing leap brought a spry young figure to a thumping landing in the grass. The young woman immediately hunkered down behind a rock, gazing though the wrought-iron bars into the perfectly manicured manor grounds. Tutting under her breath, she brushed a piece of bark out of her chocolate-brown hair, caught from the tree branches which she'd been climbing along moments before. Wide blue eyes watched the proceedings inside, as pairs of aristocratic nobles moved nonchalantly up the steps and into the great house. After them, remaining humbly several steps behind, followed a doctor, a squadron of nurses, and a coroner, holding what looked to be pictures of headstone designs for the selection of the invalid. They all breezed into the manor. From her clear vantage point, the girl behind the rock could see a tall, black-clad figure bowing them inside. A tiny smile broke over her face for the barest flicker of an instant, followed closely by a wide frown as she observed several nurses running, not walking, down the hallway toward the south wing. The double doors closed, and the outside was still and silent once again.

"So that's the way it's gotten to be now, has it?" A light, musical voice murmured as the young girl pulled a small phone out of the pocket of her forest-green dress. With a cursory glance around her, she flipped it open, scanned the screen and began dialing, muttering quietly to herself as she did so; "Sorry father, but it seems like things are moving faster than you hoped."

/

Sebastian was being driven mad, not quite literally, but almost. He simply could not figure out what was going on. As a contracted demon bound to serve the master of the manor, he was also bound by order to the manor, and while he could not leave without permission, he could sense everything and every presence contained within the house and its grounds. Throughout the course of the morning, he had managed to find an excuse to approach every single human presence within this range, from the dying nobleman to the lowest servant accompanier. He had looked at all of their souls, and seen absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. They were all completely normal. Despite this, still the light continued to cascade throughout the air. It was present in every single corner of the manor, and its power sent thrills down the demon's spine. He had to find it, but what more could he do? Where else could the source be? It was impossible for a human to hide from his awareness as long as they were within his range, so why couldn't he find….?

Sebastian paused in his dusting of one of the many sitting rooms, wandering over to the window and staring out fixatedly. It was quite a distance from the house's border down through the grounds and out to the wrought-iron fence that signified the end of Phantomhive property. Was it possible….that the source could be out there? Could it be? That would have to be a simply _huge_ soul, if its light had the ability to reach from out there all the way up to the manor. He wouldn't have even considered this thought, except that it seemed to be the only possible explanation at the moment. But why would such an extraordinary human have come to the Phantomhive manor today, and why would they refuse to enter the grounds, but simply hang around outside the gate? What did they want? And how was he supposed to find them, when he had no way of knowing which section of the gate they were positioned outside of? Sliding open the window latch, the demon had just decided that the best possible way to go about this would have to involve circling the entire perimeter of the gate, when a scuffing of shoes behind him caused him to turn around. The red eyes widened, and he bowed deeply, inclining his head to the one before him. "Young master."

The diminutive figure of the well-dressed young boy crossed his arms, staring up at his demon out of a single, cobalt-blue eye. "Where are you going, Sebastian?" he inquired, flaxen gray hair falling in his pale face as he tilted his head. Although the phrase was a question, the boy intoned it like a challenge, and the much taller demon lowered his eyes to the floor submissively.

"I thought that I would circle the perimeter of the gate and gather some flowers for the sitting rooms, young master. This whole business of having a dying invalid in the manor has made this place feel too gloomy, don't you agree?" It was not a lie, as the demon never lied to his master. He would return with flowers if his master desired them. Ciel Phantomhive stared out the window for a moment, and then nodded his head with a frown.

"Go ahead then, but be back soon….I want you around to make sure our 'guests' don't bother me. I am entirely sick of them and their simpering condolences." The boy's eyes narrowed with the distaste of an adult as he glanced behind him toward the south wing of the manor. Murmuring, "Very well then, young master," the demon pushed open the window and stepped out, falling gracefully to the earth and skimming over the grass toward the main gates. Looking back, he saw his young master leaving the window, and he smiled slightly, relieved that the boy had let him go. It would have been beyond frustrating to be kept inside, unable to investigate his theory….reaching the main gate, he peered out of the bars into the woods beyond, and saw nothing. Frowning, he began to walk slowly along the perimeter, red eyes scanning the woods and searching, searching….he was definitely hoping that he would just come upon the human leaning against the gate somewhere. If they were located a ways back in the woods, he would not be able to find them if he couldn't see them. Normally, he had no trouble tracking down humans of any kind- he was a demon, after all- but all of them always possessed merely normal souls, much, much tinier than their physical bodies, easy to sense and pinpoint. However, this human was surrounded by the light of a soul that stretched on for an apparently unbelievable distance, and the human itself could be anywhere inside that distance. Unless he laid eyes upon it, he would not be able to pinpoint the possessor of the soul, as the light did not betray its source in that way. It merely hung in the air, washing over him and cooling his pain….

After he had passed the last of the side gates, the demon began to suspect that this human was not merely hanging around outside, hoping to be invited in. They would have been at the gates if that was the case. No, this human was watching the manor for some other purpose, which meant that they were probably hiding in the forest. Bother. Tuning his ears accordingly, Sebastian meandered slowly near the bars, listening for any human-sounding rustlings emitting from the trees. He had no idea what he planned to do if he heard them, since he could not go past the bars, but maybe he could talk them into coming out….but would they come out? A human with a spiritual side as intense as this was no doubt already aware of his demonic nature. He would just have to find them, whether they wanted it or not. In case his master was watching from the house, the demon stooped down every so often, gathering a bundle of miscellaneous flowers in his arms. When he reached the main gate again, Sebastian stared around in frustration, biting his lip. Even on the entirely opposite side of the grounds, the soul's light was just as strong as inside of the manor. What _was_ this mysterious human made of? And where were they hiding? Twice as determined now, the demon began to circle the perimeter a second time, walking even more slowly and listening so intently that he forgot all about gathering flowers. The grasses and trees slipped by him, each one a possibility as he listened for the scuffing of feet, the whoosh of breath, the beating of a heart….

/

The green-clad girl had dove behind the stump of a fallen tree when she'd seen the black-clad figure descend from a window. She had not been alarmed at watching the figure of a man fall down out of a second-story window, for she knew this figure well. However, she scuttled back into the forest and found a little knell in the ground, covered in bushes, into which she crouched as she observed him gliding over the grass toward the gates, black hair blowing in the wind. From here, she was certain that she could see without being seen, and sure enough, he passed her by on his first round. Now he was coming back for another, however, red eyes flicking back and forth like a dark predator. She knew what he was searching for, had expected this to happen once she'd made up her mind to come here today….she wasn't sure exactly how big her soul was, but she knew that it was greatly expansive. Evidently large enough to reach into the manor from here, and of course he'd sensed it, and now he was searching for it as an antidote to his pain. The girl knew of the demon's suffering, but still….it would not do for her to be seen right now. Even so, half of her mind was calling for her to come out, to say his name, to talk to him again….but it would not do. Perhaps the demon could sense her turmoil, though, for he paused directly in front of the forest entrance to her hiding place, peering out through the bars in absolute silence. Bother. She couldn't just stop breathing, or stop her heart from beating, and someone like him would definitely be able to hear these necessary sounds…. Nervously, she prayed for squirrel chatters or birdcalls or anything natural to obscure his hearing, but they did not come….and then she knew that he had located her when he moved forward suddenly, gripping the bars in both his gloved hands and leaning heavily up against them. His red eyes were looking directly at her hiding place, could he see, did he know….?

"Human, come out. I do not intend you harm." The demon called softly into the undergrowth, causing a flood of relief to flow into the girl's chest. So he knew where she was, but not yet who she was….that would save her a very awkward encounter. However, Sebastian was a perceptive demon, and any words she spoke or indications she made would immediately tip him off. Since he could not see her, she stayed exactly where she was and said nothing.

"Are you afraid that you will be punished for being here? No one knows except myself, and I will say nothing if you come out. Who are you? Why have you come?" the Phantomhive butler continued in an encouraging voice, as if he were trying to cajole a little bird into stepping into his palm. The girl remained silent. So he was still forbidden from leaving the manor grounds, just as he'd always been. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't use his demonic powers to disturb their surroundings enough to force her to emerge….and then he would know. Before he could decide to resort to this, the girl began to scoot herself backward through the bushes, still crouching. She didn't care if he heard her, as long a she could remain unseen. She felt a little guilty about leaving him, for she knew that once she got far enough away, his pain would return. However, she would be back soon...and she had important things to take care of back at home. Her father must be told about what was happening.

/

Sebastian's eyes narrowed as he heard the creature begin to back away through the undergrowth. His voice became more insistent. "Come out, and I will let you inside. I will not hurt you. Come here, I promise you'll be safe…." He reached his hand out through the bars, feeling the uncomfortable sting which was the result of such disobedience. Still, he had to endure it. The human was slipping away, and he didn't want to scare it, but he didn't know what else to do. It clearly was not interested in discussing anything with him. He called to it twice more, and received no answer except the rustling of bushes. Consequently, Sebastian proceeded to hurl several silver forks at a small tree branch above the bushes, causing it to crack off and tumble downward. He was hoping that it would force the human intruder to leap into view….but the next moment, his eyes widened at the sound of a thundering crunch. Several pieces of the now-demolished tree branch wafted toward him in the wind, as sticks and twigs scattered everywhere. The human had now retreated far enough into the trees to be able to stand up without being seen, and the demon's keen ears picked up the patter of rapidly retreating footsteps.

_No!_

In desperation, Sebastian wrenched his hands against the bars of the manor grounds, trying with all his might to break the power that bound him from crossing this perimeter, or at least stretch it a little. It was to no avail, and the demon writhed and hissed in pain as he felt the needles of his contract dig into him, _hard._ The needles were sewn with sharp thread, cutting into him, binding him, hurting…. He had slumped over against the bars, trying to regain control over his trembling body, when he noticed that the footsteps had stopped. The forest was silent. He raised his head, and called into the trees, "Come back! Come back, I promise I don't want to hurt you, I only want you to ease _my_ hurt. I will protect you, I'll give you anything you want, in return. Do you understand? Do you know what you _are,_ human?"

For several minutes, the forest was enveloped in a long, deep silence. Sebastian waited, staring intensely in the woods as though his mere gaze would compel the human to return. Finally, the footsteps began again, but they were not coming toward him. They were walking away. The demon yowled and shook the barred fence in pure frustration, pressing himself up against it and trying, trying to get through….but it was useless. Without permission, he couldn't take a single step outside. He was pinned down, bound too tightly by the contract he had never wanted….but once it was made, there was no way out. He wouldn't have minded at all, if only he could have kept this human near to him. Souls like this were the rarest of the rare, and though he had encountered a few before during his immortal lifespan, not a single one had ever been this vast, this tangible, this soothing. He would never find a human like this again, and this one was getting away! Abandoning his fruitless attempts at escape, the demon slumped against the bars in exhaustion, listening to the last gentle footfalls before they faded away into nothingness. Why had the human been here, and where were they going now? Why had they run away? Immediately, he began thinking of plans to try to locate them again. He could search the town sometime when he was sent out to run errands, but he had no idea what the human looked like, or even what gender it was. And since it had been hiding out here in a very covert kind of way, it was improbable that anyone inside the manor now would know its identity. He would have to wait and see if he felt the presence of that soul again somewhere….but what if he never did? Of all the damned things, he had been hoping for a soul like this to cross his path for thousands of years, and now when it was literally a few feet away from him, he just _had_ to be under the influence of a separate contract! Certain that he was being mocked, Sebastian glared at the sky while he righted himself, biting his lip, for he knew what was coming. Even a gigantic soul like this one had borders, and when the human center point grew far enough away from him….

The demon's body gave an agonized jerk as he literally saw the light in the air begin to dissipate, the golden color fading and taking its healing aura with it. At once, like a raging tempest, the flames which had been tamped down roared up inside him again, and his gaze darkened. With the fire came _that,_ the gnawing, clawing, biting, digging feeling….the shadowed echo, the worm of hell which never died was resuming its feast on his cursed spirit. Clawing at his sides, Sebastian fell over sideways at the foot of the fence, twisting and jerking about in the grass. Damn the grass, damn the trees, damn the world that could exist without this all-consuming agony, while he could never _ever ever_ be separated from it! It was even worse now that he'd tasted what it was like to have it suppressed. Since he knew that it didn't matter what he did, the writhing demon rolled back his head and screamed at the sky, inhuman, animalistic shrieks of pain and disappointment and horror. They rolled out over the hills and penetrated the trees, where they fell upon the ears of a certain retreating human. The brown-haired girl put a hand to her mouth in sudden sadness as she determinedly continued to wade through the river she was crossing.

_I have to go, Sebastian. I know you don't understand. I'm sorry. _

It was the second time that she had said these sorrowful words to him.

**Review...hopefully? :)**


	3. Shalom

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**So, this is actually my first time posting anything that I've written anywhere. I was super-nervous, and for some reason, it really didn't get through to me that there were going to be people actually reading this story. XD So when I signed back in and saw the visitors, I was like, "Wowee wow wow wow! People have actually been reading my story! READING MY STORY!" XD *random shouting in my head* So yes. That is my excited introductory rant to . Thank you all for reading my story! You make me happy. :)**

**Magna shalom= concept made up completely by me for the creative purposes of this story. :)**

**In this slightly AU universe, the nature of Sebastian's contract is pretty much the same. He has to do whatever his master wants, they have the pentacle seal on both of them, he can't lie to his master, etc. However, just as it's possible for Sebastian to be devious and manipulate the contract, it's also possible for his master(s) to use their power to hurt him with it. So it's basically a covert power struggle between the demon and his human master(s.)**

The next day, the human returned.

Sebastian felt its presence around lunchtime, when he was quietly serving light sandwich samples to the ever-present guests in the main drawing room. His master was noticeably absent from this gathering, as he'd preferred to be so more and more over the past few days. Sebastian made the young boy's excuses for him tactfully, but in truth, he doubted that anyone presently cared about where the young Phantomhive heir had gotten to. They were all far too focused on the passing of the old patriarch, and the money which he would leave behind. While Sebastian had been mulling over the possible changes that this death would bring upon their household, he'd felt it again- the light in the air. It was practically the only thing that had been on his mind since yesterday. The burning hurt had seemed twice as bad as before for the rest of the day, and he'd spent the night pacing around his small, out of the way bedroom in a state of high agitation. He had not honestly expected the human to return after he had assumedly scared it away yesterday, but as soon as he felt that sudden, cool relief wash over him, he knew that there could be no mistake. The creature with the huge soul was back. The demon ducked out of the room almost immediately and climbed down from the nearest window, sliding to the ground noiselessly. His master would not be pleased that he was sneaking out, but then, Sebastian did not have to ask his master's permission to leave the manor itself, only the general Phanotmhive property. The demon rushed right away to the spot on the fence where he'd detected the human yesterday, but much to his consternation, it was not there. He listened for several minutes to make sure, and then began his search anew. In a few more minutes, he had located its presence on the opposite side of the main gate, hidden further back from the fence under a grove of bushes that bordered the crest of a small hill.

"I know you're there!" he called into the bushes, assuming a nonthreatening stance before the bars. "Come out, I don't want to hurt you." Silence. "For what purpose are you staking out my master's house, human?"Still silence. "I only want to talk to you. How did you develop a soul like the one you have? How was it possible?" The leaves rustled under the bushes, but no human body nor voice emerged from underneath them. "If you don't want to come out, could you at least tell me your purpose? Perhaps I can help. I have a great deal more power than you can possibly imagine, and I would be perfectly willing to make a trade in services…."

This cajoling went on for almost twenty minutes, punctuated by Sebastian's occasional attempts to force the human to come out by disturbing the ground or throwing things into the bushes. He only did this as a last resort, since he feared it would scare the human away, but the creature seemed to be resolute in its vigil, and well-versed in evasion techniques. It avoided his projectiles by simply rolling down the hill, and it held steady while the ground underneath it shook and cracked. Honestly, what _was_ this human made of? Sebastian tried sweet-talking it, bribing it, threatening it, and pretending to simply be curious about it, but the human would not budge. It seemed that this human had dealt with demons before….which was not an encouraging thought. Finally, frustrated beyond belief, Sebastian heard the voice of his master yelling to him from an upstairs window. Ah, he'd been spotted. How much had Ciel seen? Relenting to the forceful power within the voice, the demon turned away and began to trudge back up to the house, stopping after a few moments and bowing to the fence. "Well, I fear I must go, but I hope I shall have the pleasure of talking with you again, although I would hope that you would see fit to make our conversations a bit less one-sided next time." As he turned to continue his journey up to the manor, he could have sworn that he heard a small, soft laugh from within the bushes. Shaking his head in consternation, the demon had to admit to himself that he was impressed with this human. Aside from a having a huge, glowing soul, and all the spiritual insight that such a soul would no doubt bring, it also clearly possessed nerves of steel and a very tenacious spirit. What on earth could such a human want around here? Sebastian vowed that he would not give up until he could bring this human to him. As for today, he only hoped that it would stay a little while longer, so that his pain would be kept at bay.

/

"Sebastian, if there is any logical reason why I observed you outside talking to a fence earlier today, I would very much like to know what it is."

It was bedtime, and the black-haired demon was kneeling on the floor of his master's bedroom, halfway through the process of unlacing the boy's shoes. He had known all day that he would be required to explain the reasons for his actions, and that Ciel would spring it on him when they were alone….now he looked up into his master's eyes, one a bright blue and the other's color obscured by a glowing purple pentagram, the mark of the contract. "I was not talking to the fence, young master. There was someone on the other side of the fence to whom I was speaking."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "Someone? I saw no one out there."

"They were hidden in the woods."

"Hidden in the- why?" Ciel inquired, sitting straight up and staring intently out the window. "Are they still there?"

"They are not still there. They left around dinnertime. And as for why-" the demon lowered his eyes again, figuring that he was probably going to be punished for the way he had gone about this- "that was what I was trying to discern by speaking with them, young master."

"What did they say? Did they come out?"

"They did not emerge, and they said absolutely nothing to me, though I tried many different methods of persuasion. They already knew what I am. Their behavior makes me suspect that they have had experience with demons before."

"But-" sputtered Ciel, turning back from the window to glare at his demon, "why did you not immediately report this to me? If someone is hiding outside of our front gate, probably spying on the manor, it is a matter of concern for our security!"

"I would not have allowed any harm to befall this manor or its inhabitants, young master. And I did not think it wise to tell you at that time. There are some things that humans such as yourself….do not understand." The demon explained apprehensively. He knew where this was going, Ciel was going to ask him straight-out and he would have to tell him because he could not lie….

"Things like what, Sebastian? What is different about this human as opposed to any other you would normally deal with?"Ciel asked, folding his arms as if daring the demon not to answer him. Sebastian took his time, but when Ciel nudged him impatiently with his foot, he knew he had to speak.

"Young master, do you remember when I told you about _shalom_?" he asked quietly, looking out the window. His master, who was an intelligent child after all, nodded swiftly.

"The light of the soul. Of course. What about it?"

"Do you remember when I said that the souls of most humans are about the size of an acorn, and have the light intensity-"

"Of a candle, yes, where are you going with this, Sebastian? This spiritual tangent hardly serves to explain our rather temporal predicament."

"If master will listen patiently, I will explain. What I have said about _shalom,_ that is true of most human beings. However, there are a few- a very few- whose souls, over the course of their lives, become….bigger. And brighter as well."

The demon saw comprehension beginning to dawn on his master's face, and he continued.

"This is a good thing for said human bearer of such a soul, for it means that they are close to The Named in their heart, and will go to Heaven when they die. However, while they are on earth, this is also a good thing for demons, because we can bask in the light of their large and flowing souls. The power and intensity of these souls spreads grace all around them, and thus, as long as we stay near enough to the human, we can have our pain suppressed. Since demons are outside of the grace of The Named, the only way that we can evade the wrath of our eternal curse of fire is by using humans, beings who stand in between the divine and the unholy. We need to share in the light of their souls, since we have no souls of our own to help us."

Ciel was looking unnerved as he again gazed out the window. "So this person that was out there….was one of those? A _magna shalom?_ And you want….to eat their soul?"

"No, no, no, master," the demon objected, shaking his dark-fringed head. "It would be a terrible waste to either attempt to eat or otherwise corrupt their soul. Firstly, it is unlikely that it could be done, since the human in question is already so close to the celestial vision. Secondly, if it were done, the light of that soul would go out. Why would I want that? I merely want to bask in it, not to harm the human or their soul."

"To bask in it….so what exactly were you trying to do out there?" Ciel demanded.

"I was attempting to convince the human to come over onto Phantomhive property. As you know, I cannot leave the perimeter without my master's permission." The demon bowed his head subserviently, hoping to placate his master's anger.

"And they already knew what you are?"

"A soul such as the one we are discussing would naturally endow its human bearer with supernatural spiritual senses and abilities, some with which I am familiar and some with which I am not. They seemed quite unafraid of my presence, and very able when it came to dodging my attempts to force them out."

"Mmmmm." Ciel pondered, slipping his chin into his hand. "This soul….exactly how big is it?"

"I am not sure as to its exact measurement, young master, but I know that with the human out at the front of our gate, the expansion of their soul covers the entire manor, including the grounds. And that is merely one direction in which it radiates. I have never beheld such a huge soul in all of time." The demon declared, shifting eagerly as he remembered the bright, cool feel of it upon him….

"If you weren't contracted to me, what would you do?" the young aristocrat asked, tilting his head in his hands. The demon met his master's eyes.

"I would follow the human, of course, and attempt to protect it from harm so that I would have access to it for as long as possible, considering the relative shortness of the human lifespan."

"I see." Ciel reflected, glancing down sternly at the older being. "But since you _are_ contracted to me, what are you going to do now?"

"….I was hoping to speak with the human and establish a connection with it, young master." The demon explained carefully, twisting his shoulders in discomfort as the fire within him flared up in an especially painful way. "I wanted to find out its identity and encourage it to come back. Although it seems quite determined to do that without my help…."

"And then what? We are not taking some unknown hu- I mean, some unknown person from the woods into the manor just because they happen to have a huge soul. This is far more outlandish than asking for a cat, Sebastian! And I refuse to allow you to go wandering about the countryside after this person. You will continue to be bound to the manor, for if you remember, you serve _my_ family, and _I_ am your master."

The demon bowed his ebony head, biting his lip as he felt the pinpricks of Ciel's displeasure serrate his skin. "Master, I have no wish to leave. I only want-"

"Furthermore, the intensity of this person's soul may be important to you, but it is completely irrelevant to me." The boy interrupted, examining his fingernails with a regal indifference. "The matter still remains that this person is hiding in the woods, spying on the Phantomhive manor for purposes unknown. This does not bode well. I want to know who they are and what they're doing here."

The demon looked up eagerly. "If you would give me permission to step outside the perimeter, I could catch them quite easily-"

"No. Not you. I shall send Meirin and Bard out tomorrow at noon."

"But master!" Sebastian protested, outraged. "Those two will not be suitable at all! And furthermore, it is my duty to-"

"It is your duty to do as your master wishes." Ciel interrupted his demon for the third time, laying his head down on the mattress firmly. "Not to worry, if this mysterious intruder's soul is really as vast as you say it is, you'll be able to benefit from its effects to matter where in the manor you are. But until I decide otherwise, you are not to leave this building, starting now. That's an order. Do you understand?"

"Young master, this is most irregular, I fail to understand what will be gained by restricting me in this situation." The demon stated, turning his red eyes upon his master. The boy visibly bristled.

"I have already said that it is not your place to question my authority! It seems that you need to be reminded who you belong to." He paused, sitting up again and fisting the covers in his hands. "That is all for tonight, Sebastian. Finish preparing me for bed, and not another word out of you, about anything. That's an order as well."

Still outraged, Sebastian narrowed his red eyes at his master's boots but resumed their unlacing, unwilling to provoke the boy to the point of inflicting actual pain upon his demon. He was quite capable of doing this, as Sebastian knew too well…. Fuming in his head, the demon found himself unable to articulate his thoughts due to the sudden presence of a rather hot needle in his mouth, driving his tongue down into the tender skin at its base. Twitching uncomfortably, he forced himself to finish the process of replacing the stubborn boy's day-clothes with a white nightgown, brushing his hair, removing his eyepatch, and tucking the still body into bed. The sheer vastness of the king-size mattress seemed to swallow its small inhabitant as Sebastian picked up the candlestick and drifted quietly over to the door.

He did not return immediately to his room, instead preferring to wander the house and be alone with his thoughts. He was a bit taken aback at his master's bizarre decision not to allow him to pursue to intruder, which he would have given leave for with any other human in an instant. Surely Ciel _had_ to realize that the most that Meirin and Bard were going to catch tomorrow would be a few bruises when they tripped over their own feet in the undergrowth. Despite their war-oriented backgrounds, the two were notoriously clumsy, and if they were going up against a human who had successfully dodged _his_ attacks….they didn't stand a chance of finding the intruder. Didn't Ciel _want_ to catch them?

To his dismay, Sebastian realized that the fire-hot pin which Ciel's order had inserted was still in his mouth. It should have dissipated when he'd left the bedroom, but he realized that Ciel had not been specific enough concerning the particular time period in which he wanted his butler to be mute. Damn. He did not bleed, since he was a demon, and the pain was not so much agonizing as aggravating. The demon attempted to work his tongue out from under the metal, twisting it right and left and pushing up hard against it, but it was no use. He was stuck- until tomorrow, at least. A frustrated-sounding sigh came through his nose as he curled his fingers and relaxed them again. Oh well….it wasn't like he could sleep anyway, or that he had anyone whom he needed to talk to. But he'd wanted to do some more pondering about the purpose of the mysterious human, and now this needle was going to bother him until he could get Ciel to remove it in the morning….damn. Resigning himself to being bothered, Sebastian turned on his heel and stalked down the empty hallways to his small bedroom. Dropping himself onto the bed, a thing he rarely did anymore, the demon curled himself around a pillow and absently continued to try to free his tongue, while in his mind he pictured the forest, the hills, the lay of the land, and wondered where the human might conceal itself tomorrow….


	4. Familiarity

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**This chapter is very intense/dark, as the "relationship" (?) between Sebastian and Ciel comes further into light. Several references to the Book of Revelations here. You're going to want to, but please don't hate Ciel at the end of this chapter. I promise there's a reason that he does what he does. We'll get to that...later... **

**On a happier note, I got my first review! :D :D :D :D Thank you, The Blind Demoness! You made my day! I'm glad you like my story. :)**

***presents new chapter* **

The next day was a very bad one for Sebastian. It started out with his master carelessly refusing to remove the needle in his mouth which the demon had been forced to put up with since the night before. He supposed that this was another of Ciel's methods of reminding him whose power he was in, and he did not care for it at all. It _hurt,_ it prevented any comprehensible speech on his behalf, and it bothered him like hell. Sebastian did not really need to talk- he rarely did anyway- and he had managed to get by with pretending he had lost his voice and resorting to hand gestures when needing to instruct the servants. However, it was the principle of the matter that grated at his nerves. He hated being toyed with like this. He was a demon, for goodness sakes! Any human being should be at least slightly in awe of him, and not treat him like a dog that could be muzzled and leashed. Throughout the day, the annoyed demon repeatedly worked his jaw back and forth, yanked his tongue back as far as it would go, grated his teeth, and even made several attempts to pull the needle out with his fingers. It was useless. Without his master's help, there was nothing he could do.

As excessive as Sebastian already felt this was, it was not the only trying thing he had to deal with that day. At noon, just as he'd said, Ciel sent Meirin and Bard outside of the manor gates with orders to capture the intruder and bring them to him. Sebastian had been feeling the soul's light for several hours at that point, but just as before, he could not tell the direction from which it came. He was extremely doubtful that it would matter, considering the (lack of) capabilities of those two….but Sebastian had hidden behind the bay window curtains anyway, watching Meirin and Bard staggering about and making an incredible racket as they circled the manor perimeter, turning their heads every which way like drunken people. He had been worried, again, that the human would retreat at the sight of them, but this did not happen. Sebastian even wondered if it was perhaps laughing in amusement at the "quality help" that had been sent out to defend the manor. He wouldn't have been surprised. The human was very skilled….the hapless cook and maid never stood a chance. Still, apart from lunch and rest breaks, they valiantly kept up the search for the better part of four hours while Sebastian worked inside, feeling the soft breeze of the _magna shalom_ soul quenching his fire, cooling his tongue. If only he could obtain the source! He loved the feeling, but hated the uncertainty of not knowing when it would subside and leave him writhing in agony again. Perhaps, the demon pondered, as he stirred an herbal glaze which was to flavor the dinner in a pot over the stove, perhaps Ciel would concede that Sebastian was the one for the job when Meirin and Bard returned empty-handed, as of course they would. Then he would _have_ to let him out to track down the human, wouldn't he? Surely Ciel would not be willing to simply let this unknown person escape after they had spied on his property?

Every half an hour, his master called Sebastian up to his study to inquire if the intruder was still out there. He would then relay this information via telephone to Meirin and Bard, who would thereby know to keep searching. The young aristocrat pointedly ignored his butler's frequent hand signs indicating that he would very much like his master to remove the needle from his mouth, and it was a progressively frustrated demon who found himself sent back down the stairs again and again to resume domestic labor in the main manor. By the time 4:30 rolled around, Sebastian had cleaned the general hallway, straightened the guests' bedrooms, prepared breakfast and lunch, (and tea and snacks in between,) carried a whole carriage-load of medical supplies down to the south wing, fixed the numerous blunders of the other household servants, and was well on his way to finishing the preparations for the feast that night, all without making a sound. He had also managed to take his anger at his predicament out on numerous plants and cleaning supplies, which had all been handled very roughly today. When he slowly, slowly, began to sense the gradual ebb of the presence of the soul, he decided that he'd had enough. Seizing a blank piece of paper from inside the recipe book, the demon scribbled a hasty message on its surface and marched up the stairs, remembering just in time to knock respectfully on his master's study door. When Ciel called for him to enter, the demon swung open the door and held out the paper toward the diminutive young boy. Taking it dubiously, he read out loud;

"_Young Master-_

_I am currently sensing that the light of the magna shalom is beginning to fade, which means that the human is retreating from the manor perimeter. Since it has already been established that Meirin and Bard are going to be nothing if not completely ineffectual in the pursuit of this person, I would implore you to let me go and find them, before the trail grows cold. I will bring them back to you right away, and you may question them to your heart's content. Please consider this, as I am sure it would be the best course of action in the interest of keeping the manor and those within it secure. Respectfully, your servant."_

Sebastian had not considered this to be an unreasonable request at all, so he was quite unprepared for what happened next. As soon as Ciel raised his eyes from the paper, the demon's world snapped. His whole body seemed to fill with lead, and he hit the floor like a felled tree. Unbearable pain washed over him in the form of roaring fire, and he arched his back and dug his claws into the carpet, trying to get a hold on something. No, no, no, Ciel couldn't have…. He felt the piercing sensation, and whipped his ebony head around to stare wildly down his body. On his left hip, directly over the place where only Sebastian knew that there was a deep, charred mark burned into his spirit, a long, roiling shadow had begun to grow. It was shaped like a worm, and its shadowy teeth were dug into his side, directly over the mark. As the demon's red eyes grew wide in horror, the teeth sank deeper into his flesh, and the soulless worm began to push itself inside of him.

A horrible shriek rose up in Sebastian's throat, and he began to thrash around with such force that the floorboards beneath him creaked and shuddered. Desperately, he swiped at the worm with elongated, nail-tipped fingers, but his hands passed right through the ghostly shadow, and it continued to inch itself into his body. With every inch that it gained, the demon's agony was ratcheted up tenfold. Sebastian slammed his hip repeatedly against the ground, even though he knew it would be completely ineffectual- the worm was not a solid creature, it was the essence of hell, part of his eternal curse….and Ciel had withdrawn his protection from it in order to punish him….the demon tried to scream, but the needle was still in his mouth, burning hotter than ever and spitting out sparks….

"Nnnnnnn! Nnnnnnnn! NNNNNNNNNHHHHHHNNNNNNN!" Sebastian wailed, guttural noises being the only sounds he could manage to make. He tossed his head back and forth and entered into another useless sparring attempt to pull the transparent worm out of him. When this failed, the demon resumed twitching and flailing on the floor, the pain so intense, he could barely see….he didn't want to look down, didn't want to see the thing he hated most, but he could feel it, every bit of it….he had to get it out! He had to think of something, before he lost the ability to think at all! Knowing of only one thing that could possibly work, the demon managed to shove himself up onto his knees, staggering toward the dim shape of his master still sitting in his chair, extending his hands toward Ciel imploringly…._make it stop, master, make it stop, make it stop!_ He couldn't really see, but he knew that the boy was pushing him away. But Sebastian didn't care about protocol anymore, he was _desperate_ for release from his pain….unthinkingly, he grabbed his master by the shoulders and brought him into his arms, trying to push his way through into the expanse of the boy's soul, anything, _anything_ to escape this torture. The next moment, the seal on the demon's left hand flared, and he found himself thrown into the wall by the force of the contract. Ciel was standing over him, looking murderous, shouting, "How dare you touch me?" and for the time being, the demon's vision unexpectedly cleared….

"Sebastian, this is an order. Lie still."

Sebastian's eye twitched; Ciel couldn't be serious? Frantically, he reached out for his master, but a swift kick from Ciel's over-shined shoe drove him down onto his back. "Don't make me say it again, or I can make this punishment look tame."

Breathing raggedly, Sebastian was forced to obey as he let his body go limp. It was horrible. Every sense in his body was screaming for him to move, but he was stuck, stiff as a log. The worm was halfway in, and it was five times as terrible when he couldn't even struggle to distract himself from its steady, crunching progress. The huge, red eyes of the demon stared up pleadingly into the single cerulean eye of his master as Ciel bent over him, gazing at the worm in revulsion. "You're disgusting."

"Nnnnnnmmmmhhhhnnnnn!" the demon choked out, gasping and moaning as he pulled his tongue against the metal restraint that bound it. He had to convince Ciel to give him back his protection, he couldn't take this! _Master, what did I do?_

"You think you can order me around?" Ciel asked aggressively, standing up and beginning to circle the twitching body of the demon. "You think you know what's best? It is not your place to tell me what's best! You are not my parent, and you are _not_ my friend, Sebastian! You are a _monster!_ Your name isn't even Sebastian! You don't even have a name!"

_That's not true! I have a name. It _is_ Sebastian. _She _gave it to me, so I know it's real….but she isn't here now, and she isn't you, master….that's why….I…._

"This is your fault!" Ciel shouted, losing his composure and suddenly seeming to be in as much pain as the tortured demon on the floor. "It's all your fault! Mother was right! You ruin everything!" Sebastian shook his head convulsively, and a moment later, his whole upper body jerked to the side as Ciel kicked it, hard. The demon lay still, shuddering as his cursed body burned from the inside. Ciel was breathing hard, glaring down at his servant with clenched fists. Ciel, who had been taught by his destructive father and disapproving mother that this method of controlling the demon contracted to his family was perfectly normal, who had never had a problem with hurting him, because, after all, he was not human….just like every single human whom he'd ever served before, stretching out in a long, dull line in Sebastian's memory. He had never once hoped for anything better, human nature being what it was, until a certain February evening eighteen years ago….but that hope was gone now, too.

_If only I'd served her a little better, tried harder to pull her back when she began to hear the call, given her more reasons to stay with me….I would be safe. This wouldn't be happening to me….if only she were here, she would be kind to me again….aaaaahhhhh!_

The demon slammed his head back against the ground, arching his back what little he could and twisting around on the carpet. The worm was almost completely dug into his side, and Ciel wasn't even looking at him anymore, instead gazing out the window thoughtfully. The young boy was quite unaffected by Sebastian's mortal distress. The demon continued to moan and wail, desperate to get his master's attention, but instead Ciel was walking toward the door…..Sebastian shrieked when he realized what was going on, that his master was actually going to leave him like this. He turned back once, tossing a few words over his shoulder carelessly, as one would toss a dirty rag; "I will release you when I feel that you've been punished sufficiently. For now, I am going to dinner. You are to stay in this room and not destroy anything. Tomorrow, we can discuss your behavior and see what you've learned."

"Nnnnnnnnn! Mmmhhhhnnnnnn, nnnnnnnnnnn!" the demon cried out as the door closed sharply and he heard the footsteps of the only one with the power to help him walking steadily away. Despair washed over what remained of his senses as he began anew to jerk around on the floor, screaming even though he knew it was useless, no one would help him, screaming at the cruel irony that although he could move mountains and enchant humans and evade death, he himself had no power to escape the tearing jaws of his own worm, forever embedded into his flesh….its tail end was disappearing into his hip now, his vision was going black, the voices of hell were screaming in his ears….

_Master, help me, please, don't leave me, master, no….._

Sebastian had lost the ability to see anything but darkness, and his supernatural demonic senses were completely shot, but he could still hear, a little….and it was because of this that he detected a slight _thump!_ on the floor over by the window. When another followed the first, the demon rolled himself over to face the sound, panting as he listened for it again. A feeling that was rather foreign to him made itself known, that of _vulnerability_….had someone climbed in through the window? Were those….footsteps? When several more in succession proved that in fact, they were, he tried to lift himself up into a defensive crouch, but fell back almost immediately onto his side. Groaning in agony, the demon detected that the unknown person was right in front of him….why did they not say anything? What did they want? Maybe they were here to hurt him some more….what if they had a crucifix? He tried to swipe at them with his claws, but found to his horror that his whole body, laced with pain and fire, seemed to have given up on moving altogether. He heard the rustle of clothing as he waited, shivering in abject misery, for whatever they were going to do to him….

Needless to say, he had not expected the touch of two small, cool hands on either side of his face, nor had he anticipated that with this, all of his torment would cease so suddenly and so completely that it was as if it had never existed at all. He felt breath on his face, and a smell like flowers in the springtime filled his tattered senses as the human bent over him, gently stroking his jawline. The red, sightless eyes widened as a cool, soft, indulgent light passed over him….there was only one person whom this could belong to. The mysterious intruder had finally come into the manor grounds, had come into the manor itself, and she (for surely it was a female,) was touching him, and it was amazing….he couldn't feel the fire, the pain was gone, the worm had been cast out, he was safe….

What Sebastian knew of the contract told him that this was impossible, that the only human who could have restored his protection from the full intensity of his curse was his master, and this definitely was not Ciel….but he was past the point of questioning. He didn't care how this had happened, as long as it was happening. Finding that he could move again, the demon carefully reached up and wrapped his arms around the back of the human, pulling her closer and breathing her in, the scent of flowers, the light of her soul…. _It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt._ The human did not seem averse to this kind of treatment, and gradually the demon felt a pair of smooth arms fold around him too, pulling him upright and guiding him into leaning against her side, where he continued to cling to her bare arms, her little waist. _Painless._ He discovered that he could move his tongue again, and considered speaking, but this time it wasn't a needle which kept him mute, it was astonishment such as he'd never felt before…. _It doesn't hurt. I can feel….I…._

A soft hand was placed against his forehead. As the demon tilted his head up to receive the touch, he found himself slipping down into a calm darkness with which he was not familiar. He tensed up at first, but then found that he could not resist….he didn't want to. It felt good, warm, hospitable down there, where he knew that there was nothing to hurt him….

/

The brown-haired girl watched the sleeping demon quietly, petting his silky hair as she stared out the window at the moon, overarching them both. Sebastian looked so peaceful, at long last…. _It was stupid_ _of me to come back here, but I can't help being glad…._ She had already been trekking her way back through the forest when she'd heard his muffled screams, hitting a pitch which resonated clearly through her memories. She'd told herself that she was just going back to investigate when she turned around, but once she had tracked the source of the gut-wrenching moans to a second-story window, she'd found herself unable to leave again. She knew what was going on, of course she did. The demon was being punished for displeasing his master in some way, he was suffering the pain of a thousand torturous deaths without being able to die. Standing just outside the light of the window, she'd turned cold as she listened to Ciel's angry voice, berating his servant, who did not seem able to speak in his own defense. Then she'd heard Ciel leave, and the garbled, hysterical wails of the tortured creature had reached down into the garden and driven into her senses. Before she'd thought it through, as calmly as if she had come here today planning to do it, she'd found herself throwing her arms around the trellis and shimmying up toward the window. Sebastian would not be able to sense her coming, and hopefully he would not panic too much when he realized that he wasn't alone in the study. He was in bad shape, very bad shape. As soon as she saw him, she knew what she had to do.

The demon in her arms sighed contentedly, burying his face into her shoulder and continuing with his sleeping. The brown-haired girl smiled, tracing a hand over her braids pensively. Sebastian had not changed at all, in appearance or in nature. More worrisome was Ciel….he had clearly been raised to be ruthless and uncaring toward Sebastian, and how that would carry over into the rest of his life, well….it didn't bode well….

_So much work to do. And father is bound to be worried that I'm not home by now. He's probably calling my phone every five minutes, thank goodness I turned it off, or the sound would give me away….speaking of giving myself away, I've pretty much done that just now….bother. Is this really going to work?_

The girl inclined her head toward the sky, and closed her star-filled eyes. After a moment of quiet, she sighed and shifted the demon to the floor, tucking his limbs in at his sides in a comfortable manner. Slowly, she removed her small hands from his person, sighing again in relief when he didn't stir. Sebastian had absorbed enough of her light as to be all right for a day or so….as for tonight, he had a long night of restful sleep ahead of him. The girl smiled slightly, wondering how the demon was liking _rest,_ a faculty of which his kind had been deprived since the fall. A few nights with the ability to sleep were hardly going to make up for millennia of forced agony and restlessness, but he would feel a lot better until she showed up again. For now, it was time to go home, reassure her father, and make plans for the final time that she would come here as a stranger. First, she had to make sure that she wasn't caught as she exited the manor grounds, although she was pretty sure that the only being around here capable of catching her was currently sleeping on the floor by her side. Giving the aforementioned being a gentle pat on the head, the girl stood up and slipped over to the window. Passing by the grand oak desk, she spotted a piece of paper lying there which her earlier hurry had caused her to neglect. Picking it up, she scanned the impeccable handwriting delicately, shaking her head as she turned it back over. _So that's what brought this upon you, hmm? You'll never catch me, poor demon. I will come in of my own accord, for the time has now arrived to finish what was started back then….for now, just sleep. Be without pain, Sebastian._

There was really no point in pretending that she hadn't been in here. Even before Sebastian woke up, Ciel would know that his demon had had a visitor….he could never have freed himself on his own, obviously. Picking up the pen lying haphazardly on the desktop, the brown-haired girl scribbled a quick message- _Forgive the intrusion_- on its surface, and tossed it back onto the desk. Swinging herself over the windowsill, she did not bother with the trellis, instead arching herself out over the garden with a wide leap and a soft landing, becoming lost in the rush of whooshing air, running feet, and the insatiable darkness of the night. The endless song of the gleaming stars echoed above her, fell upon her, and as she ran she heard it loud and clear.

**Well! I hope that didn't scare anyone too much. Now that that's over, I think we should all give Sebastian a big hug of comfort. I feel bad for him. :)**


	5. Across the Line

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**Trousseau: Refers to the possessions which a family accumulates for a woman (or a woman assembles for herself) in order to prepare her for marriage someday. Includes bridal accessories, jewelry, lingerie, makeup, toiletries, bed sheets, bath towels, etc. Also, brand-new outfits for the woman's wedding, honeymoon, and newlywed days. The traditional trousseau was stored in a hope chest.**

**On another note, thanks to a helpful tip from Rosegurl1, I went online and ran my character through a Mary Sue litmus test that I found there. I am happy to report that according to the test, she is NOT a Mary Sue! This pleases me. :) I just found out what a Mary Sue character was yesterday, but they sound kind of annoying, and I don't want to write one.**

**Anyway, on with the story! :D**

The next time she entered the manor grounds, a full week later, the brown-haired girl did not bother with prowling around outside the fence or climbing covertly over the gate in the dead of night. She simply walked up to the main wrought-iron gate under the blazing sun of daytime, found it unlocked, and pushed it open. Her brown, booted heels made deep _thunking_ noises as they stepped over the line in the ground which the gate had made, into Phantomhive property. It seemed symbolic to her, crossing over that line in this way, something she'd never really done before….but after today, everything was going to be new. The flowers and plants in the terraced gardens were blooming, spilling over their allotted spaces and rising out in all directions. The girl was not noticed by the young, blonde gardener who obliviously passed her by, carrying a large and cumbersome box into the house. Indeed, she knew that unless he were to see her, even Sebastian would not realize that she had entered the manor grounds. Not with all the ruckus going on today that was causing the presence of so many strange people inside of the manor. However, there was one person who did know that she was here, and as the girl slipped into the grandiose building through a certain discreet side door, she fell with great gladness into the warm embrace of an elderly, gray-haired gentleman with a monocle sitting in one eye.

/

Sebastian was being careful, very careful, as he moved about his duties that afternoon. Ciel was on edge. The boy's grandfather was taking his final breaths, and the frenzy of the relatives, business acquaintances, representatives, and "family friends," (whose numbers now totaled almost 100) within the manor had been whipped into maximum strength. Sebastian's main goal for the day was to come into contact with his master as little as possible, but not to make it seem as though he were trying to avoid him. Anytime, the unstable, angry boy might choose to take his frustrations out on his demon, and….Sebastian's gloved fingers twitched, reaching reflexively for a somewhat sore spot on his hip, before pulling back up. The demon bit his pale lip, continuing his task of offering light sandwiches and tea from a serving cart to the crowds of people gathered in the main hallway of the south wing. Only a select few were allowed into the chambers that housed the dying man; his young master, Madam Red, (his current master's aunt as well as his previous master's younger sister,) and a few other close relatives. The rest were just gathered outside, tallying their bank books in their minds, no doubt. The demon sneered inside as he poured the tea for another association of businessmen; they flinched away as it was handed to them, and took it with outstretched arms. Sebastian walked away with supreme indifference to their discomfort. Usually naïve humans were enamored with him, but the ones associated directly with the Phantomhive family tended to be less so. They had heard stories, handed down from their fathers and grandfathers, about the family's long-ago vilification by the Church, and the shadowy and sinister reasons behind it. They had heard that the family was in possession of a highly capable, very handsome, and mysteriously reclusive butler who ran the household and seemed to have come out of nowhere. In fact, the Phantomhive family had been in possession of such an asset for as long as the oldest businessman's living memory could recollect- but it could not be the _same_ butler, they reasoned, of course it couldn't. The man never seemed to age or tire, but of course these illusions must be merely figments of their faulty memories. It could not be the same butler of which their fathers and grandfathers had heard of back in their business days. Of course it couldn't. Still, the humans' unease remained palpable around him. He could almost hear it repeating in their feeble minds, like a mantra that would protect them from him. _Of course it couldn't be. Of course it couldn't. Of course._

Sebastian did not care what any of them thought about him. He was merely doing as he'd been ordered by his master, and it was his master's opinion alone that mattered to him. Lately, that opinion had not been too favorable….the demon's fingers twitched spasmodically toward his hip again. Ciel had not been pleased when he'd come back into his study the morning after _that night_ to find Sebastian curled up peacefully on the rug, sleeping like a child. He'd kicked him awake and demanded an explanation, which Sebastian had taken a long time to give because the previous night's events had been very confused within his mind. He'd told Ciel the truth, of course, or at least what he could remember of it, but by the way the young aristocrat had reacted, one might have thought that Sebastian had planned his unexpected rescue on purpose, simply to annoy his master. After a great deal of yelling and threatening and general fury, the boy had sent Sebastian away for the day. Normally, this would have upset the demon very much, but at that time, it was the best thing Ciel could have done for him. The bewildered demon had returned immediately to his small bedroom, curled up under the covers of his rarely-used bed, and gone back to sleep at once.

Over the course of the next few days, the demon had decided that he liked this _rest._ He liked it a lot. He understood now why humans spent so much time resting, sleeping, and being generally lackadaisical. The ability to slow one's body and thoughts down was a gift. He had spent the whole of his existence up until now being utterly exhausted due to the pain and trauma and general strain of being a demon, but unable to do anything to soothe his aching spirit. But sleep was amazing! He felt so much better after entering into its dark and hospitable chambers for a few hours. He could think more clearly, and his pain was substantially lessened. Sebastian played with sleep like a cat would play with a brand new piece of catnip, carrying it everywhere he went and entwining himself around it. He spent his nights fast asleep, no longer prowling the house like a wandering spirit, and during the daytime, when he had finished his chores, he would sometimes take a secretive half-hour nap on a reclining sofa or a chair in the kitchen, just because he _could._ He had known it was going to happen, but still, he had been most distraught several days ago when his cursed restlessness had finally returned and robbed him of this newfound ability. He had spent a few nights after this pacing around outside the door of his young master's bedroom, listening enviously to his sleeping sighs. He wanted _rest_ back; he wanted a release from his pain; but for that, he would need the human. And despite the overwhelming evidence that the mysterious _magna shalom_ intruder was able to get in and out of the manor with her secret agenda alarmingly easily, Ciel had bizarrely continued to refuse to allow Sebastian to go and get her. He had sent a very confused Meirin and Bard out repeatedly, and the more the intruder managed to evade their clumsy attempts to capture her, the more determined Ciel seemed to become to snare her in his own way. Which did not involve demonic assistance. Sebastian still did not understand his master's reasoning, but he no longer possessed any desire to question the boy. He recalled what Ciel had said to him when he'd returned to work the next day;

"I need you now to be managing the household and the guests until that old man dies, but don't think for a moment that I'm going to merely forget about this incident. After all of this is over and the household is in order once again, you _will _pay for your lack of discretion, like you should have paid two nights ago. And this time I will sit there and watch you squirm, all night if I have to, to make _sure_ that you take your punishment, demon."

So Sebastian had been compelled to work all week with _that _hanging over him. As he delicately navigated the tea cart though the throngs of people in the south wing hallway, he hoped very much that the human intruder would return to the manor before Ciel could make good on his threat. Perhaps the death of the patriarch would prove to be the event which she seemed to be waiting for….but why? As he mused over this, a low murmuring began in the further recesses of the deeper hallway, which turned into a swell, which rose into a wail. Sebastian's lips curled up in satisfaction; the old man was passing beyond. He had done far too much damage in his lifetime, but it gave the demon a spur of vindictive contentment to think that he would never again darken the doorstep of the Phantomhive estate. There, he was going; he was leaving now. He was falling under the shades. He was falling into the fire. Sebastian grinned inside as he and he alone heard the echoes of the horrified, painful, astonished screams of a human soul experiencing hell for the first time.

_Still don't think it's real, that there is no justice in the eternity, that your titles and deeds will save you, my former _master?_ What do you think now, you old fool?_

Sebastian did not have much time to gloat over this eternal victory for his kind, however, for on the temporal plane to which he was fastened, he needed to wrap the empty body up and shut it inside the coffin that Finnian had carried in earlier. Proceeding down the hall and through the family's reclining room, parting the crowds with his mere presence, the demon gripped the large door handle and silently slipped into the deathroom.

/

The brown-haired girl was guided by Tanaka through the catacomb-like backrooms of the manor, encountering not a single other soul as the two of them slipped up upon the back entrance to the south wing and the deathroom. Finally, they came to an unassuming door hiding in the wall, at which the old servant stopped.

"It is through here, and then through the next main door, my lady." He said softly, smiling at her kindly as she squared her black-clad shoulders and prepared to go in. "I believe that he has cast all other relatives out into the next room, so you should be alone. I shall remain nearby until you come back out or call me in. Be strong, my lady."

Murmuring a heartfelt "yes," the young girl pushed open the door with small, bronzed hands, and crept through the empty storage room up to the other, much grander doorway. She did not hesitate as she opened the door, for she had known for awhile now that this moment must come. Inside the gleaming, opulent deathroom, on a lavish bed embroidered with red down ticking, laid the withered, decrepit remnant of the older generation of Phantomhive nobility. His face, peeking out from underneath the rich coverlets, was all that she could see, and his labored wheezing filled the room. His eyes were beady and lined, his teeth were misshapen, and gnarled hands clutched the blanket up to his jutting chin. He was obviously very close to death, but still sentient enough to perceive that there was someone else entering the room. The beads in his eyes jumped toward the girl, and as she turned around, his wheezing suddenly doubled in intensity.

"You." He gasped, pointing a trembling finger at her like a javelin. "You….how dare you come here now, how dare you…."

"Hello, grandfather." The girl addressed, dipping low in a proper curtsy, seeming quite unperturbed by his greeting.

"You dare to come here, you dare to give yourself that name…." the old man continued to mutter, his dried-up tongue flopping around in his mouth like a dying fish. "Bastard child, shame of my lineage! Presumptuous brat! You are no granddaughter of mine!"

"Perhaps not in your heart, grandfather." The brown-haired girl answered honestly, drawing a few steps nearer to the dying man's bedside. "But I don't mind. I did not come to take anything from you, but to give you two things which may ease your transition into death. The first-" here she looked the man directly in the eyes, beady black on wide, flowing blue, "-is forgiveness."

The moldering man on the bed erupted into a hacking fit of coughing, and the girl waited patiently for it to pass. She was not surprised when he angled his head upward, flung out his arm, and let go with a tirade of vindictive abuse. "Forgiveness? You, forgive me? Have you forgotten the state in which you were born? Have you forgotten how your existence irreparably damaged my family's prestige? You ought to be begging for forgiveness from me, you little bitch!"

"I will not." She returned flatly. "I need no acknowledgment from you, nor do I seek any forgiveness or pardon for existing. The cruel choices that you made for my mother caused her to stray away from your plans and give birth to me, and I have never been anything but happy for this. I am not responsible for the choices that were made before I was even born; you ruined yourself, grandfather. Nevertheless-" she brushed a shining braid behind her shoulder, blinking slowly, "I have come to understand that forgiveness will be best for us all, even though I think that you are too far gone by now to appreciate it. What you did you did in malice, but in the end, it brought me happiness and helped me to see God's path. So thank you, grandfather. There is no hatred in my heart."

"Get out!" demanded the dying man, before passing into another fit of painful-sounding coughs. The girl remained where she was.

"Indeed I will, but last of all, I wanted to give you this." From the pocket of her jet-black coat, she produced a silver ring, intricately twisted and worked, with a clear blue stone embedded in the middle. The man's eyes fell upon it with greed as the stone reflected in them. For a moment, they too looked blue. The girl held out the ring to the man, rolling it over in her palm.

"I know that you were greatly distressed when my mother gave me the symbolic Phantomhive family ring for my jewel trousseau. You saw it as yours, and rightly so. I am giving it back to you now. Don't worry-" the girl bent down, carefully reaching for one of the man's gnarled hands. Gently, she guided his trembling fingers in sliding the silver circle over his thumb. "-I have never worn it."

The dying man watched the ring, and watched the eyes of the girl, both the same color, yet filled with different light. Wheezily, he brought the ring up to his dead-fish mouth and kissed the cold, clear stone. The girl closed her eyes at this, and turned back toward the door through which she'd come.

"Why-" the Phantomhive patriarch's voice caused her to turn back around again, "why have you come back, bastard?"

For a moment there was silence, the silence of a blank face. "That is not for you to know." The girl finally declared, walking gracefully back over to the door. She had made it halfway through when she heard the man cry out, "Celine!" Whirling back around, she observed the now-ringed hand of the old man reaching out for her, his face earnest, his breathing heavier. Again he cried, "Celine!" and she stared at him in alarm.

"Celine….? I'm not your wife, grandfather. I'm your granddaughter, remember? The oldest daughter of Rachel, your own first child….ah, I see." The young girl stated, walking carefully back over toward the bed, her heels making clacking noises on the tiled ground. "I see. You are dying, grandfather, and your failing mind is taking you back to those you knew and cared for. Do you think I am Celine?"

The old man did not seem to hear her. His eyes were growing hazy. Continuing to mutter, "Celine, Celine…." He reached out for the tiny hand of his granddaughter. The brown-haired girl hesitated for a long moment, but then she gave it. As she placed her right hand in the withered hand of her grandfather, the sleeve fell away from the arm, and a great swath of white was revealed-every inch of her right arm was bandaged, from the fingers to all the way up at the shoulderblade. The dying man did not notice the anomaly. He continued to gasp and pant, his eyes focused on nothing. For a while, there was near-silence within the luxurious room.

"Grandfather." The girl whispered slowly as his breathing began to come in spurts, "You are so close to your own oblivion. Will you not turn away from your eternal ruin?"

The man gave no response. The girl closed her resigned eyes, and pressed her lips together firmly. "Grandfather," She asked, at last, "why is your death chamber so ostentatious? It is full of everything that you will never use, never see again. Why do you choose this way to usher yourself under the shades? Do you know how close your ruin is? How I wish you would turn back! But you will not- I know you will not. Goodbye then, grandfather. I don't suppose that we will ever meet again."

Nothing more was said. As the old man died, he whispered, "Ce-line…." and held tightly to the hand of the illegitimate granddaughter whom he hated. She felt his soul go past her, unsaved, and plunge out of the world as if attached to a heavy anchor. The ring continued to gleam on his thumb like coiled poison. The girl waited until all was quiet again before giving the decrepit old hand a final squeeze and laying it to rest at his side, limp and somehow already cold. Then she stood in the middle of the luxurious and futile deathroom, and waited. She could have slipped away, but the time for doing that was past. Now it was time to be discovered.

**Aha, a cliffhanger! :O My first (fanfiction) cliffhanger! I've already got the next chapter written, I just have to edit it. So review! Or I'll...I'll hold the chapter hostage! XD No, just kidding, I won't do that. But seriously, review! I'd like to know how I'm doing. And thank you to all the people who have favorited me! :D**


	6. The Return

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**Hey guys! Sorry I didn't update as soon as I said I would. I planned to post this on Friday, but unfortunately, I found myself unable to log on to this site until today. Hopefully other people have had that problem as well, and it isn't just my computer... :(**

**Anyway! Finally, we're going to find out some stuff! This chapter is a bit longer, hopefully it will be interesting. :)**

**Remember that this universe is somewhat AU.**

**Sometime soon, if I'm not too swamped with homework, I might find time to actually put information on my profile for this site. Sorry to those of you who clicked on my profile, only to find that there was nothing there. I am lazy and somewhat mysterious. XD**

She had known who was going to open the door before he did; the only one in the manor who could sense the actual passing of a soul. Sebastian sidled in suavely, turning around to respectfully close the door. Perfect appearance, perfect manners, as always. All of that composure dropped through the floor, however, when he turned back around and beheld her standing there. His pale face went slack and his mouth opened in an almost comical O as whatever he was supposed to be doing was immediately forgotten. For several parturient moments, the demon did not seem able to do anything. Then-

"_Master?"_ he gasped out, venturing forward a step as if determined to make sure that she was not a light-generated illusion. "Master? You're-you're back! And you-this-" He stopped speaking to gaze all around him, his eyes becoming wide enough to take in all the light that only he could see. The girl wondered what it was like for him, seeing her soul directly for the first time. That, combined with the sudden realization of her identity, was probably overwhelming even for someone like him.

"Master Lydia, _you're_ the _magna shalom_? _You've_ been watching the manor all this time? And in the study-that night-that was-how did-"

"Sebastian." Lydia said softly, smiling slightly inside as she saw the effect that hearing his name off of her lips had on the demon. He stopped sputtering immediately. "I told you I would come back, so why are you so surprised? Stupid demon, can't you even manage a datebook?"

Sebastian looked as though someone had given him a kitten for free. _"Master."_ He purred lavishly, reaching out a hand to touch her head. At that moment, the door behind him burst open and expelled a rather bemused-looking Tanaka, a careworn Madam Red, and a resigned-looking Ciel into the room. The two aristocrats froze at the scene before them.

"My-my goodness!" cried out Madam Red, her wide eyes flicking from the girl to the demon to the dead man on the bed behind them both. "My word! My folly! What is happening here?" Ciel just looked stunned. The demon eyed him apprehensively, moving over to stand beside the young woman. "Young master," he bowed to the boy, "it seems that this is the _magna shalom_ person whom we have been seeking. Most astonishingly, as I have just now discovered, she is also-"

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Ciel, stepping authoritatively past his demon to stand before the brown-haired girl. He seemed in command, but also a little frightened, as the two observed each other with the same cobalt-blue eyes. "Who are you, and why do you look- you look like- why do you look like my mother?"

The girl felt a rush of endearment enter her heart. She wished that she had something to give to Ciel too, but the truth would have to do. "That is because," she replied, bending down and gazing into his eyes, "I am your sister, Ciel. Our mother's firstborn daughter. You remember me from earlier times, no doubt, but I've grown and changed quite a bit since then."

Ciel gawked at her speechlessly, his eyes roving over the face, the hair, the rich eyes and supple body of the woman who had raised him, with incremental differences here and there. The hair was darker, the skin was more tanned, and one of her eyes was slightly more half-lidded than the other. Apart from this, the woman could have been his mother. A lump suddenly rose up in his throat, and his stomach seemed to be full of jumping frogs. What was happening to him? Before he had time to contemplate this properly, he was practically steamrolled over by his aunt, who has grasped the situation much faster than anyone else. Wailing "Lydia, oh Lydia!" with enthusiastic emotion, she seized the new arrival and squished her into her magenta bosom, wrapping her arms around her niece and beginning to sob. Ciel continued to stare, and Tanaka and Sebastian continued to watch the scene from the sidelines. Lydia herself commenced with trying to comfort her aunt, and from the main hallway, several more people were beginning to peek inside the room. Sensing that this might very well turn into a spectacle, Sebastian inserted himself between Madam Red and his master, separating them gently.

"We ought to all go into the drawing room, away from the crowds." He murmured, while Madam Red sniffled and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, I….yes, you're right, oh….it's just so sudden, I'm sorry! We didn't expect him to die while we were resting in the next room like that, oh, but at least he wasn't alone! And you, oh my Lydia, you're here! It's so sudden! However did you-"

"Come this way please, Madam, my Lord, Master. Tanaka, please deal with the crowds." Sebastian requested, ushering them out the back door which Lydia had undoubtedly come in through. He saw Ciel start as he called Lydia 'master,' but really, that was what she was to him. As they passed through the winding catacombs of hallways, he noticed that the young girl was actually very pale, and her walk was wavering. The demon laid a steady hand upon her shoulder, and when she accepted it, her brother looked even more surprised. Sebastian was too infatuated to care. His master was back, and what a soul she had developed in the years she'd been away! What had she been doing, and how had she known to come back at this time? He'd never guessed throughout all these days of pursuing the intruder that she might be getting around so easily because she had firsthand knowledge of the manor and its grounds. He'd never imagined that the _magna shalom_ could be someone he was already connected to! Sebastian longed to feel the touch of her hands on his face again, just like that night in the study, but right now he was content to merely be beside her as the group slipped into a wayside drawing room. The light of her soul was already there, filling up the air with shimmering, cooling light, a merciful balm for the demon. He seated everyone in close-together chairs, and respectfully took his place off to the side near the fireplace mantle. Madam Red was still shaking her head in wonderment.

"I'm sorry to shock you all with my sudden appearance." Lydia spoke up quietly, brushing her brown braids behind her shoulders again and peering shyly at her relations. "I came here at this time because I had something important to do, and it just happened that I ended up staying with grandfather as he died. In his final moments, he thought that I was his wife, and he kept calling me her name. I didn't want to just leave him….and then Sebastian came into the room just moments after he died, you see."

Ciel had gained his voice back. "So _you_ were hiding in the woods outside of the manor this whole time, waiting for the right time to come in?"

"Yes. I'm sorry if I made you worry that I might be a villain or a spy. I wanted to keep aware of what was going on inside of the manor."

"Why didn't you just come in?" blustered Ciel, but he fell silent as Madam Red and Lydia shared an ominous dark look over his head. "Was it because grandfather would have tried to have you killed, just like before?"

Another dark look was exchanged. "Yes." Lydia finally replied, gazing out the window and looking quite unperturbed at this mention of her possible death. "But the passing of our grandfather marks the end of the last of the ardent Phantomhive family purists, so today I have no more fear about that. But obviously, I could only make myself known to him at the very last minute, when he would have no more time and no more strength to try for my death. I came to see him for a personal reason."

"But how did you know when he was going to die?"

Lydia's large, porturbent eyes fixed upon her younger brother's small frame. Only twelve years old, and already he had the bearing of an earl, the unmistakable commanding voice of one of England's top noble families. He had been meant to have it. To his question, she replied softly, "Has Sebastian told you about the nature of my soul?"

"Yes, he said that you're a _magna shalom,_ and I know what that means." Ciel replied, while Madam Red watched the exchange, looking confused. Lydia nodded. "Thus, I suppose I have special spiritual insight in situations such as these. I knew because it was given to me to know. Then I contacted Tanaka."

"I don't really understand all of this," Madam Red declared, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, "but what are we doing talking about souls and death? I want to hear about life! Your life!" she reached over and squeezed Lydia's hand like an excited schoolgirl. "It's been so many years, and you've grown so big! Where _have _you been? How have you been getting by? Do you have a job? Do you have a man? Who-"

"Pardon the intrusion, sir and madams." The greyed head of an under-doctor leaned into the room, startling the three humans. "But Lady Angelina is requested by the head physician to come and sign the death certificate of her father, if she would please…."

It seemed that the flamboyantly dressed woman had just remembered that her father had died not half an hour ago. "Ah yes, yes, of course I'll come. I'll be back in a moment, children, wait for me! And you, stay here!" She pointed sternly over at the younger, darker imitation of her older sister. "I mean it, too! Don't disappear for another five years the moment I turn my head!" She rustled out of the room briskly, but behind her words, Sebastian could sense a real worry that Lydia was going to do just that. He bit his pale lip, and the moment the door closed, detached himself from the wall and approached his master.

"Master, I have waited many days and nights for your return. May I make you up a room upstairs in the main hallway?" he asked persuasively, kneeling beside her chair and staring up into her tired-looking blue eyes. Lydia did not answer, instead leaning toward Ciel while at the same time casually reaching out to give Sebastian's head an affectionate rub. He caught her hand in his now clawless fingers, nuzzling it like a cat and holding it against his skin peaceably. Ciel was most disconcerted by this occurrence. What had he told that stupid demon about acting human? He would have yelled at Sebastian if his head wasn't spinning so much.

"I've never seen him do that with anyone." He commented, staring hard at the oblivious demon.

"He likes me." Lydia replied, wrapping her long fingers around the demon's own. "Are you all right, Ciel?"

Ciel started as he heard her say his name. "Yes, I'm- well, I'm….all things considered, I guess so."

"You don't have to be okay. Anyone would expect you to be shocked right now." The brown-haired girl smiled faintly. "Your house has been invaded by a huge wave of people, of which I suppose I am one, and your grandfather has just died."

"I didn't like him." The young boy responded, glaring darkly at the carpet. "He wasn't like a grandfather at all."

"Nor did I. Even so, his death will cause some significant changes around here."

"Like you coming back?" Ciel asked, looking up, while his sister stared into the distance reflectively.

"Yes, I suppose so. I am no longer a potential target for death because of my sordid association with the Phantomhive name, so that's a good thing….speaking of which, how much do you remember about me before I left the manor? You look somewhat confused."

"My first memories are of you coming to watch me while our parents- I mean our mother and my father- did things in society. We would play with blocks and read stories and climb out the window into the garden. Those were happy times." The blue-eyed boy murmured, rubbing his forehead as if that would summon back the memories. "Then….then mother became ill, and I saw you only sometimes….and then I didn't see her at all. And then she died, and you left, and you didn't take Sebastian with you even though he was your birthright."

The demon's pale hands tightened around Lydia's, and he pulled her nearer. She glanced at him with impenetrable eyes. "No. I didn't. I don't imagine you were too happy about that, were you?" she asked Sebastian, nudging his head.

"He was absolutely unmanageable for awhile." Ciel replied, answering for his demon. "He was still tied to the manor, or I think he would have gone wandering about the country looking for you. But he wouldn't take orders from anyone. He hid in the walls and broke things and burned all the gardens and neglected his duties and haunted father and grandfather until he drove them out of the manor. He was like a poltergeist. I remember that time _very_ well."

"_Sebastian!"_ Lydia exclaimed, staring intensely down at the kneeling man. "That is exactly what I instructed you _not_ to do when I departed!"

"I am a demon, master." The creature replied, looking up in mock innocence. "It is in my nature."

Lydia huffed, and Ciel glared at him. "So I assume that you took the contract mark with Sebastian in my place, since the manor seems to be in quite good order now?"

"I did." Ciel nodded, folding his arms. "Very soon afterwards. It was to control him. No one in the family could command him, since his previous master had died and his would-have-been-current master had left without sealing the contract. So when the haunting became so unwithstandable that the family feared that outsiders' attention would be directed toward us, they decided that I should close the contract in your place so we could bind his actions again."

"At that young of an age?" Lydia asked quietly, appearing disturbed. The boy nodded nonchalantly. "My father approved of it. This stupid demon fought it until the bitter end. He tore half the manor apart on the day the mystics came, and they had to drive him into the sealing room with crucifixes. He kept changing shape into hideous things even after they got his hand attached to the censor; it was quite frightening."

"_Sebastian."_ Lydia groaned again, and the demon growled lowly in response, rubbing his contract hand as if reliving the traumatic memory of being forcibly bound to the wrong master.

"Even after the contract was sealed, he still fought me until I learned how to properly control him. Grandfather taught me how to make him feel pain and restrict him with needles. Eventually, we got him properly trained again." Ciel stated matter-of-factly, gazing coldly at the demon kneeling at his sister's side. "It was a bit of a hedge around the contract, having me take the seal instead of you, since you're the _oldest_ child of his former master. But since that part was only a secondary clause, we were able to bend it that much and still achieve the same effect."

"It was a blatant, flagrant viola- nnnnnnnnh!" the demon's rant was cut off in a furious grunt as a sharp, fire-hot needle was once again shoved through his tongue. He clapped a hand over his mouth and twisted his head, glaring venomously over at the instigator. Perhaps that defiance was a mistake, for it caused Ciel's frown to deepen. The boy raised his eyebrow coolly.

"If it was a violation, idiot, then I wouldn't be able to do _this._" Without warning, Sebastian felt Ciel's power twist the needle in his mouth, digging it deeper into his bottom palate. The demon threw his head back in pain, crying out incoherently, while impulsively latching onto the closest thing to him, which happened to be Lydia's arm. The black-clad girl was dragged off her chair due to his strength, and Sebastian heard Ciel begin to shout for him to release her in an indignant voice. Before all the words had come out, though, a softer voice intervened.

"No, it's okay. I'm fine Ciel, don't order him. Here Sebastian, hold still, let's see if I still remember how to do this…." Sebastian felt both of her hands press over his mouth as the girl bent toward him, concentrating. The next moment, like before, all of the pain was gone. "There, good! You're okay now. I did wonder if his having a separate contract would break my inborn connection to him, but it seems that that's not the case. Here, let go of my arm, I need to sit down again…."

Lydia lifted herself back into the chair, and Sebastian, who was not stupid, curled up once again beside his newfound source of protection. He pulled her hand toward him swiftly. "He doesn't like that needle-tongue thing, I remember. He used to get so agitated when mum did it to him. I was sometimes unkind to him back then, I'd pretend like I didn't know what he wanted when he was trying to put me to bed because he couldn't talk."

To look at her, it would seem like this was a completely normal incident, but her younger brother's face betrayed a peculiar kind of paralysis. No one had ever crossed him in terms of authority before, not since his parents had died….how was he meant to respond to something like this? Bewildered, the one thing he was sure of was that it was all Sebastian's fault, anyway. He glared at the demon. "His behavior has left much to be desired as of late. I must apologize for him."

"Not unexpected though, it is? He's been sensing my soul hanging around for the past week and a half, he's probably been restless as- no pun intended- hell. I noticed that you stopped letting him come outside, which was probably as good thing." Flipping her braids, Lydia reached down and gave Sebastian's head a casual shove. "I was _not_ ready to be found out yet, and he wasn't helping things by throwing random projectiles at me while I hid in the bushes."

"I did not realize it was you, master. I apologize most sincerely for that. I'm glad you weren't hurt. By the way, how did you manage to dodge some of those things? The skill level required-"

Ciel sat up straighter in his cushioned chair. He did not like what was going on here. Who did Sebastian think he was, slipping so easily back into a position of familiarity with _his_ sister when Ciel himself barely knew what to say to her? Lydia belonged to _him,_ not Sebastian. And where did that stupid demon get the nerve to act so boldly around her? "Sebastian, shut up. You are insulting the company with your constant lapses of memory regarding your place. My sister should be treated as having the same status which I possess. You do not talk to her unless she asks you something. And furthermore, what are you doing hanging off her side in this manner that does not befit a butler at all? Apologize, and remedy your actions at once!"

Lydia was sensing a worrisome conflict of interests here between Ciel and the demon. Obviously, her brother did not know that this was the way in which she had interacted with Sebastian since she was born. She somewhat suspected that the demon might have had a hand in subliminally influencing her young mind to accept his desire for closeness. Regardless, the older Lydia had never been able to bring herself to be bothered by Sebastian's 'hanging off her.' He had explained countless times that demons needed physical closeness and touch in order to alleviate their constant pain. Her nature had always been a soft one, and she had felt sorry for him. She didn't see that changing anytime soon, especially considering that she was now a _magna shalom._ However, despite the fact that he was misinterpreting the situation, Lydia understood that Ciel was upset because he thought that Sebastian was disrespecting her by not staying back. His concern touched her very much; but this would take a long time to explain, and Lydia did not want to spend her first hour with her brother in five years talking about demons and bad things that had happened in the past. It didn't feel right. She wanted to know about her brother and how he was getting along, but if he kept clashing with Sebastian….she could send the demon away, but that also seemed like a careless thing to do after not seeing him for such a long time. He would be most upset. But maybe if it was only temporary….

"Sebastian, there's actually something I'd like you to do." She cut in before the demon could begin with the obligatory apology, although he had noticeably neglected to remove himself from her side. "Please go back into the deathroom and retrieve for me something which you will find on the left hand of the late grandfather Phantomhive. You'll know what it is as soon as you see it."

"While you're at it, make sure you put the body in its winding sheets and seal it in the coffin, Sebastian." Ciel added, flicking his hand at the demon. "Do it right away before it causes as odor."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, but bowed obediently and stood up. With the fluid motions of a black cat, he strode over to the door; as his hand touched the handle, however, a thought struck him and he turned back around. "Master, you will be here when I return, yes?"

"Who do you think you're to give the item to, moron?" Lydia snorted with a cockeyed smile, and the demon felt slightly better, although he still didn't want to let his newly returned master out of his sight for even a moment. There were so many things he wanted to ask her….but there was too much going on right now, he could see that he would have to be patient. Sebastian sighed as he walked briskly down the hallway. He was very, very tired of being patient at this point, and he was anxious about Lydia's intentions as well. She had come back to stay, hadn't she? Hadn't she?

/

Sebastian was making his way quickly back from the deathroom when his young master's demanding voice behind him caused him to turn around. He was very surprised to see Ciel standing there in the hallway, and not with his sister in the drawing room. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Ciel calmly stated, "I am being called for by the family, so it seems that I must go and deal with them for awhile. My sister is where we left her, so go and bring her the object that she desired. Don't let anyone besides Madam Red, Tanaka, or myself into the drawing room, and do not speak about her presence here to anyone. The situation is still far too….unstable for her safety to be guaranteed in this manor. I will deal with you later." With this ominous statement, Ciel turned on his shining heel and marched off down the hall, leaving Sebastian to hurry off in the opposite direction, toward the drawing room. It made him very anxious that his master had been left in there by herself, for Ciel had been right on one count. The manor was still very unstable.

Pushing open the door, Sebastian beheld Lydia's slim body tilted sideways on the oriental couch, her face worn and tired because of the day that she'd been having. Softly and respectfully, the demon approached the resting girl and knelt down by her side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Hello, Sebastian." She yawned. "You have it?"

"Here you are, master." The demon intoned quietly, producing the elegant blue Phanotmhive ring from his suit pocket and hovering carefully over Lydia. He attempted to slip it onto her finger, but she turned her hand down quickly and let it drop into her dress pocket. The demon frowned.

"Master, please allow me to remain with you, for the safety of the manor is not yet assured."

She waved her hand sleepily, invitingly, and though he would not have done so with any other human, Sebastian took the initiative and sat beside her on the sofa. He bent toward her, drawn tantalizingly in by her light. It felt so good, so cool…. "Master," he whispered earnestly, "there is so much I want to know. Where have you been? Why have you come back now? And what in the name of all in the world has happened to your soul?"

Lydia's lips tilted up in a tiny grin at that last question. She yawned again, drawing in a deep breath afterward. "I went to many places after I left the manor, and did many things. There would be no point in my trying to tell you about them all now, however. There's far too much to say. And why did I come back? It was time. I told you, it was given to me to know when I would return. Although a little more of an advance warning would have been nice…." She grumbled, grinning again into her pillow, "….but on the other hand, it might have only served to make me think about it too much. Ah, I guess he does know me, after all."

Sebastian froze at the mention of The Named. "Did _he_ tell you to come back? Just like he told you to leave?" he demanded lowly, unconsciously sliding his claws out of his fingertips. Lydia nodded, supremely unbothered. "And you just _did_ it, just because he asked you to, didn't even give you a clear _reason,_ just-"

Lydia was laughing. Sebastian sputtered indignantly to a halt. "Sebastian," the dark-haired girl intoned, sitting up and giving him a playful nudge, "we both know that you can't comprehend the way he does things. How could you? You're a demon. Don't talk about things that you don't understand."

The demon clenched his clawed fists in sudden worry, glancing up uneasily into the bright blue eyes of the other. Even those were full of brilliance. "Did he do _this_ to you, then?" he inquired softly, reaching up to reverently stroke the side of her face. He was seized with the sudden longing to take his gloves off and lean into her fully.

"He did it _for_ me, not to me. I was entirely complicit in the change." The girl corrected.

"But what _happened?_"

"You shouldn't be so surprised, Sebastian." Lydia said to him gently, pulling his hand down from her face. "You were there when it began." When the demon continued to look intensely curious, she smiled and made a tiny motion to her right arm, shaking up the sleeve so that more of the bandaged limb was visible. The demon's red eyes widened.

"Was that- but- but how?"

"Once I let go of my darkness," Lydia mused quietly, her face swimming in a dream-like state of memory, "there was _much_ more room for light."

"But, I saw you after that." The demon protested, frowning in confusion. "During those months between the time of _that_ incident and your mother's death, you were with her at the manor quite often. I never detected any change…."

"It was a very gradual process. Or should I say, _is_ a gradual process. Even now…." Lydia yawned yet again, burying her tanned face into the couch's pillow. Sebastian leaned forward intently.

"You mean that your soul is _still_ expanding? How is that possible, master?"

"I am tired." The dark-haired girl announced, shutting her eyes against the light from the windows. "I'm going to take a nap now. My mind can't process all that's been happening so quickly. Grandfather is dead….and his last wish will be forever unfulfilled. What a foolish man he was." She shifted her soft head drowsily. "Find me a blanket, please. And close those curtains." Sebastian agreed with her wholeheartedly there as he fetched a woolen blanket from the opposite side of the room and closed the curtains, still curious, but determined to be patient. Lydia buried herself fully in the fuzzy blanket, only her head sticking out. Her long strands of dark hair looked like roots, the way they cascaded down her face. The demon hovered uncertainly over the resting human in the silent room, and after a few moments, she opened her chocolate brown eyes and gave him a bemused glance.

"Go ahead, then, if you're just going to stand there like that."

The form of the demon fell to the floor like a passing shadow, and the next moment, a soft-furred black cat clawed his way up the blanket and came to stand on top of the human. He took his time in finding the perfect place to lie down, as cats were known to do. Eventually, he curled up into a ball on top of Lydia's stomache, slowly rising and falling along with her. The human laughed, a soft, amused sound, and casually draped a small hand over the scruff of the cat's neck. The room subsided into silence as the girl fell slowly asleep and the cat remained alert, his feline ears pricked up on constant guard against danger. No danger approached, and the content demon happily nuzzled the still, ringless hand of his master. No matter what had happened to her, she was back now….

Softly, almost undetectably, the cat began to purr.


	7. That Night

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**Hi guys! :) I'm currently doing a bit of historical research for the next two chapters of this story. In the meantime, please enjoy this short little interlude chapter/brief flashback. **

**Yorkshire accent: A historical dialect native to the northern English county of Yorkshire. Most generally associated with country people. Since London is located in the more southern part of England, the fact that Thoms speaks Yorkshire would indicate that he is not originally from the area in which this story takes place. I didn't make his accent too broad because I didn't want to confuse anyone. **

**ALSO, in the last chapter, I messed up towards the end when I described Lydia's eyes as brown, when earlier in the story I had said that they were cobalt-blue (like Ciel's.) I can only say that I must have been insane while I was editing that part. Lydia's eyes are blue. Thank you to Tsukiko-mei for pointing that out! I'm trying to entertain you people, not confuse you. XD**

**Finally, THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS! :D If I could send you guys cookies, I would. Hopefully you'll all get good karma for reviewing my story, and will somehow end up with cookies anyway.**

Lydia was watching from a distance as a little girl with dark brown hair tiptoed carefully along the top of a short stone wall, holding her small arms out for balance. She was dressed in very fine clothing indeed; the edges of a scarlet-muslin dress peeked out from underneath a practical cloth apron, which was very dirty. It was clear that the wide, expansive apron had been meant to save the dress. Her hair was short and done up in a ponytail, which floated along behind her head like a cheerful taffeta spray. Her eyes were focused forward in a very determined way, but she was not alone. Gliding quietly along behind her was the darkened figure of a man, dressed in high-class servant's attire. He wore a black swallowtail suit, and his hair was black as well, sleek and soft-looking. He was taller than the little girl even though she was standing on the wall, and he watched her with a face that was as exquisitely beautiful as it was still. He made no sound as he moved over the late summer's crunchy brown grass.

Reaching the end of the stone wall, the girl did not hesitate, but leaped off, falling toward the ground in an instant. In another instant, so fast that the colors of his uniform blurred into the surrounding scenery, the man had caught the child up in his arms, and her innocent voice echoed back into Lydia's ears, laughing in delight. The man balanced the child against one shoulder easily as the pair of them meandered down a small hill to the shore of a lake. Even as he carried the girl along effortlessly, Lydia could not help but notice that he seemed to be in pain. The gloved hand that was not holding onto the child kept reaching up convulsively to rest against his chest, and his face was tense. Every now and again, he took a breath.

The child was playful and eager, and she hopped out the man's arms and began to race around with great enthusiasm as soon as they reached the water's edge. Seeing her tumbling over logs and kicking up sand with reckless abandon, it was not hard to imagine how her apron had become so dirty. She soon flopped herself down in the sand, and began the ambitious endeavor of building a large sand castle just out of reach of the tiny waves which rolled ashore. Meanwhile the tall, black-clad man had laid himself down in the wide shadow of an elm tree, hands still pressing to his chest, which pulsed jerkily as he drew in tiny sips of air. The little girl called to him to come and play with her, but he simply curled himself up tighter on the ground, seeming most unwilling to move. Finally, with the stubborn determination of childhood, the brown-haired girl gathered a large amount of sand into her apron and marched carefully back up the shore, dropping down next to the man and rolling all of the sand out onto the ground before him. A tiny, fang-toothed smile graced his beautiful features as he obediently reached out and began to shape the sand with his white-gloved hands, while the girl busied herself with it also. In the time that it took her to construct a rather lumpy tower, the man had already built an entire palace, as beautiful and intricate as the Taj Mahal. It was so realistic and exquisite-looking, it would have surely won any sandcastle-building contest in an instant. The little girl quite forgot about her tower as she crawled all around the castle in wonderment, bending down to stare inside of the actual windows at the tiny furniture in every room. As reckless as she had been before, she was as gentle as an experienced antique dealer as she admired the sandcastle. While this went on, the sandcastle maker had returned to his curled-up position on the ground, digging his sharp teeth into his pale lip while his hands clenched fruitlessly against his chest. Eventually, young though she was, the little girl came to notice the other's discomfort. She abandoned the sandcastle and crawled over to the black-clad adult, hovering carefully over him. The ripples in the lake spread out as a strong wind blew across the land.

"Is it very bad today, Sebastian?"

The man nodded without opening his eyes. His forehead was pressed into the ground, his breathing shallow.

"You ought to tell me these things." The girl huffed, tugging the topmost string of her dirt-stained apron over her head. "Honestly, what am I going to do with you when you can build something wonderful like this in a minute, but you can't even speak up for yourself?" The man twitched his shoulders as the child finished disentangling the apron strings from around her waist, and shooed the large cloth material away from her. She pushed the lovely puffed sleeves of her red dress up her arms, and then reached out and gently tugged the man's left hand away from his chest. Carefully, she peeled off the glove that covered it, revealing a sinisterly-shaped pentacle adorning the outer side of the hand. She did not have time to focus on it, however, for as soon as the glove was off, the dark-haired man pushed his fingers insistently into the much smaller hand of the child. She did not react to the pricks of the small claws which grew out of the very tips of his fingers. Rather, she wrapped her palms around the larger hand willingly, petting it softly. The man stopped twitching as both of his hands relaxed. He turned his head to face slightly upward toward the child, and her pink lips moved once again, very slowly, asking a question. Her eyes were kind. He nodded, red eyes staring up at the blueness of the sky. Still holding his hand, the little girl laid down beside him to see what he was looking at, and for awhile, the pair of them were amused by the antics of a mother bird way up in the elm tree, attempting to teach one of her late-blooming children to fly. Eventually, and without announcement, the man's dark body suddenly turned into a shadowy pool of blackness, out of which morphed a thin black cat, which proceeded to climb up onto the girl's right shoulder and stretch itself out most comfortably. The girl did not seem surprised by any of this, and as she petted the cat, it began to purr.

After some time had flowed by, the girl and the cat both heard a rather high-pitched voice in the distance, calling out that it was dinner time in the main hall. The girl waved goodbye to the mother bird and took one last, long look over the magnificent sandcastle before digging her feet into the ground and standing up. The cat lolled about on the grass for a moment, before jumping acrobatically into the girl's outstretched arms. The ripples in the blue lake began to still once more as the pair of them moved slowly up the hill, the girl's hair trailing out behind her like the tip of a colored paintbrush, as she carried the demon home.

Lydia was watching them vanish upon the bright point of the horizon when a sudden disorientation of the scenery caused her to bite her lip, and in doing so, she woke up. She was not particularly surprised to find that it had been- well, not exactly a dream, more like a memory….but certainly not the present. What did surprise her was the discovery that she did not know where she was. It was very dark, and a loud rumbling sound seemed to be coming from underneath her body. Wherever she was, she surmised that she had just fallen gracelessly to the floor of the place. In fact, the floor felt like it was rattling.

"Ah-ah. What place is this?" she inquired aloud, pushing herself up off of her face and squinting around in the darkness. Slowly, she began to make out some familiar objects- wooden paneling, curtains, a set of bench-like, cushioned seats on either side of her. She was in a small compartment.

"Pretty calm, I'd say, for someone who don't remember where you are." Called a robust voice from somewhere on the other side of the wooden paneling. At once, Lydia remembered everything, and she rolled her eyes in amusement.

"You would know, eh, Thoms Weatherstaff?"

"Aye, tha' I would, my child, sure enough. It's just yer disposition comin' out in ye, eh? The way ye've always been ever since I've knowed ye. Never was able to scare ye, not fer nothin'. Not that I've made much of a livin' outta tryin', but even so…."

Lydia clambered to her feet and drew aside the curtain from the right window of the carriage. She pushed down the glassine pane and stuck her head out into the night, observing their surroundings with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. They were still riding with dense English forest of either side, meaning that she could not have been asleep for very long before she had been quite disruptively awoken by that fall. "Where are we?" she called in the darkness. From the front of the carriage, between huffs of frosty breath, came the husky reply in a broad, comforting Yorkshire accent. "Still on the fores' road, it ain't been too long since we pulled outta t' man-oor back there. I 'spected ye to sleep the whole way home, but ye can't be sleepin' like a windmill on seats like them that's in these carriages. Narrow, they are. Ye'll fall right off, but then I guess ye already knows that now, child?"

He chuckled, and Lydia hummed in assent, sitting back down in the carriage seat, but leaving the window open. She could picture him sitting up there, steering the horses, facing the dark. He would be buried in his greatcoat to keep out the Spring chill, but his big red nose and large chapped hands would be prominently visible as he moved them through the forest night. He would not be afraid, either; he had not been afraid when he'd pulled into the Phantomhive manor earlier this evening, the way that most people were upon arrival. Thoms Weatherstaff was far too practical a man to allow himself to fear 'anythin' not worth two beats o' my heart.' This was one of the reasons why she'd arranged to have him come and retrieve her upon the evening on this very important day. He was as reliable and strong a neighbor as anyone could ever ask for.

"So, child, how went it tonight?"

Lydia stilled and clutched the cushioned edges of the carriage seat with her small, tanned fingers. "….As well as any unexpected family reunion after almost five years' absence can be expected to proceed, I suppose."

"Ah." Thoms intoned lowly into the night. "But it weren't a bad homecoming, methinks. Am I right? Those fair-off folk didn't want ye t' leave when I pulled in fer ye on this fine evenin', sure enough."

"That's true." She replied honestly. They hadn't. Ciel and Madame Red had protested most strongly when she had informed them of her arrangements to return home this night. They had offered a multitude of rooms for her to spend the night in, and declared that she'd only just got back and she ought to stay awhile. The concerned looks on their faces had made her want to say yes, but she had graciously, gently, said no. For one thing, her father would be desperate with worry if she did not come home tonight like they had planned. She did not want to put him through that. And furthermore….she did not want to put herself through those memories. Lydia pulled her shawl closer around her body, turning to stare out the window once more. She knew that there was a deeper, more troubling reason that she felt so averse to staying the night at Phantomhive manor. However, she had no desire to delve into it on her first day back. Not with anyone. Not even with herself.

/

Back at the manor that night, the silence of the grave had taken over the noble property. The dead patriarch of the aristocratic Phantomhive family lay stiff in his winding sheets upon the cooling table in the cellar, but no one inside the household had a thought to spare for him. The majority of the still-remaining guests' thoughts and dreams were centered around the hopeful influx of money. Down in the servants' quarters, the human help was mainly concerned with the anticipation of the many chores to be done the next day, and with the worry that the young master had grown more distant over the past few days. Especially today. Today, he had barely known how to speak.

Upstairs in the manor halls, a red-haired woman stood quietly in the middle of an out-of-the-way room down an obscure hallway, surrounded by framed paintings covered in cloths. She had peeled the cover off of a single one only, and the eyes that stared back into hers were bright blue and beautiful, tinged with a hint of sadness in the lovely depths. Bosom heaving, the living woman stared for a long time into the face of her oil-and-canvas sister. "It's your wedding portrait, Rachel." Her voice cracked loudly across the silent room. "Your wedding. Why do you look so sad?"

Across the manor, the diminutive figure of a young boy lay curled up in his expansive bed, staring at the ceiling. His nightshirt had slipped down off of his right shoulder, and one of his hands was absentmindedly rubbing the back of that shoulder, where, emblazoned in the pale flesh, was a dim scar that had never quite gone away. It was not long, but it was deep, and as he touched it, he remembered everything about the night he had received it. The terror was with him still, and he suddenly wished that the room had more light. "Why did you do it?" he murmured to the ceiling, to the scar, to her. "Why did you do any of it? What was the point in caring so much?"

Down at the bottom of the stairwell, concealed behind the entrance to a hallway that led to nowhere, a tall, dark figure was sitting upright on his bed. His pale face was deep, deep in thought, and in his bare right hand he held a golden watch, a perfect circle. The chain was wrapped around his wrist as he delicately clicked it open, bringing it closer to his red eyes. Above the symbols of time, which told the demon that it was very late, was a single word, inscribed in brilliant cursive writing into the inside of the golden mechanism. Sebastian. _My name._ Slowly, the demon shifted his shoulders and came to cradle the watch in both hands. His red eyes stared intensely at the inside of the watch, as if he expected to see an entire novel written there, telling him what he should do. Eventually, he bowed his head over the golden timepiece, unwilling to sleep even though he now possessed the fleeting ability. His voice, when he spoke, was low and rough. "Master…."


	8. The Ring and What It Meant

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**Hi! New chapter here! This one is nice and long, to make up for the shortness of the last one.**

**I wonder if anyone else has been having more problems with their fanfic account? This time, I can log in, but afterward, I can't gain access to certain parts of my page. I couldn't get onto my story stats for several days, and when I finally did, it had stopped working (tallying the number of hits and visitors.) This is the first day I've been able to get into the publishing section. So this is my mindset right now: "!" XD XD**

**Front door: In this time period, the dignity of entering a grand house through the front door was reserved solely for the owners of said house, and for their high-class callers and friends. Servants and people of the 'lower classes' would have been obligated to use a back door, or 'servant's entrance.' **

**Hired carriage: Carriages (and drivers, called coachmen,) in the city which were not owned by the person using them, but could be hired out to drive people to their destinations, either within the city or at a reasonable distance. Sort of like historical taxis. The wealthy and affluent would never have used these services, given that they all owned their own (much fancier) carriages. Lydia's patronization of a hired carriage, along with her general dress and some of her modes of speech, are all indicative of a person who is well-provided for, but not fantastically affluent. **

**Last thing: I finally put up my profile information! :D I'm trying to upload a picture at this moment. Hooray! Now people can actually find out stuff about me, if they feel so inclined. :3**

"Where is she?"

A flaxen-haired young boy was currently pacing the length of his study inside the Phantomhive manor, forehead rutted with premature stress lines as he wrinkled his brow. Standing over in the corner, another male, older and darker, watched his progress with slitted red eyes. He frowned. "Young master, I would implore you not to work yourself into such a state, given that she still has plenty of time….she said yesterday that she would be here around 3 o'clock today, and it is yet half an hour until then."

"Yes, but still." The boy frowned even more deeply than his servant, then, unwilling to continue his monologue, proceeded to slump over into the high-backed chair that sat behind the great oak desk. Normally, Sebastian would have taken this opportunity to remind the young heir of the dignity of proper posture, but at the moment he felt that this would be quite reckless. Ciel's mood, which had taken on a distinctly darkened tone ever since the now-dead patriarch had first moved into the manor, was even more wild and unpredictable now that this extraordinary happenstance has occurred. He had barely said anything all morning, and stared out of windows as if in a daze.

Sebastian tried another tack. "Perhaps it would do to read through some of these papers while you wait?" The demon pushed a stack of receipts, certificates, and sympathy cards toward the young earl, who regarded them with an emotionless eye.

"Take them away. I care nothing for them."

"Not meaning to trouble you, young master, but for appearance's sake, you must-"

"God damn appearance." Ciel stated calmly in a hard, flat voice. "I've spent my life in keeping up these ridiculous appearances."

Quite appalled at the language which his master was employing, Sebastian had already opened his mouth to scold the boy when Ciel turned toward him suddenly, eyes flaring. "As for today, Sebastian, when Lydia arrives, I want you to serve us tea and scones, as per usual for guests, and then I want you to leave. We shall not be needing you further. I wish to speak to my sister in private."

"But master, I-" Sebastian protested, now doubly displeased. He was eager to talk with Lydia again, to learn where she had been for so long, and what her plans were now. He had been most upset when she had declared her intention to leave the manor the night before. He wanted to offer, once more….

"No." Ciel interrupted his demon yet again. "You were enough of a nuisance yesterday, what with your disgraceful speech and behavior towards her. I will not allow this to happen again. You will leave us be today."

"Young master, please, allow me to explain. You do not understand. I feel not the slightest bit of contempt for your sister. Master Lydia and I have quite a history together, and it is in this way that-"

"Silence, man! Are you an idiot? Do you not understand your position? You will do as I say!" Ciel demanded, gesturing violently toward the demon. At once, Sebastian's red eyes widened as the burning within him intensified. Ciel did not watch as the other male hissed and doubled over against the wall, instead turning to stare out the window again, an emotion building up in him which he could not identify. _Master Lydia and I have quite a history together…._ There is was again, that arrogant claim of familiarity, of belonging from Sebastian. _She's not _your _sister._ He felt like replying defiantly, although he knew this would sound ridiculously petulant, so he did not. _Stupid demon…._ Eventually, remembering that Sebastian still had to go downstairs and actually prepare the tea and scones that he was to serve them, Ciel waved his hand once more and cut the burning. Accusatory red eyes stared back into his own, but the demon said nothing more as he was dismissed and bowed his way stiffly out of the room. Sebastian sighed as he slipped back down the stairs, rubbing his forehead with his white-gloved hand. It seemed that the events of the past few days were only serving to exacerbate the already existing tensions between his young master and himself. No surprise there, he thought to himself, after all, it had always been this way….well, almost always, anyway….

/

Lydia thought that Sebastian seemed rather discontented that afternoon as he greeted the hired carriage that pulled up in front of the manor, and helped her down from the compartment. The fact that she was pulling up at all, in the front of the manor, no less, was a new and disconcerting thing to her mind, and it made her stare about strangely as they walked across the front path to the gigantic carved doors. Since it was a fine Spring day, Lydia was wearing a light green, sleeved dress- a simple dress, without the attachments of corsets, cage hoops, or ribbons- with her hair down in double braids once again. A single violet ladies' glove covered her right hand. Sebastian gripped her exposed left hand rather tightly as they went along. Both of his gloves were off, but she thought nothing of it. It was to be expected. He seemed tense- perhaps because the guests were still here? This made her wonder.

"Sebastian, should we really be going into the manor through the front door? The guests will spot us, more n'likely. Is it safe?" she questioned, angling her head upward to gaze upon the taller man. Her speech seemed to set off something within him, and his eyes widened, and then narrowed- but all that he said was,

"No one has seen you here for more than five years, master. And anyway, you are with me. I will not allow danger to befall you."

"Where are we going, then?"

"Your brother-" again Sebastian's usually impassive face twisted into a momentary frown- "wishes to take afternoon tea with you in a secluded part of the manor. You shall not be disturbed there, I should think. Your aunt is currently dealing with mortuary business at your grandfather's estate, and will not return here tonight. After your conversation with your brother, master-" his cold hand pulled at hers insistently. "will you stay? Tanaka and I have prepared a fine room for you upstairs, away from all the others that are now occupied."

Lydia had opened her mouth to interrupt him upon the question, but then closed it again and let him finish. She did not hesitate in her response, however. "I will not. Thank you for your trouble, but I must return to my home before sundown."

Sebastian paused as they cleared the last of the outside steps. "This is your home." He said deeply, seriously. "You were born here. Your family-"

Without knowing that she was going to do it, Lydia suddenly began to laugh. She laughed and clutched her sides, without bitterness, but with honest, incredulous humor in her voice. Ah, what a thing this was, a thing to beat all! To think of her, herself, Lydia, pulling up to the front of this manor in a carriage, exactly as if she were a fine lady- and serious, somber Sebastian having the temerity to call it her home! To think of all of her half-relatives who were probably rolling over in their graves right now- what a thing, indeed! Sebastian appeared torn between exasperation and amusement as he observed her laughing face, her bouncing braids that heaved up and down with her chest. A lively wind whipped through the grounds, but it brought no onlookers with it. They were quite alone. At last, the demon put a black-clad arm around Lydia and pulled her to the side, ushering her gradually back into quiet. She smiled up into his face. "I know you have a sense of humor." She asserted, brushing her dark hair back into place. "I am going to assume that that was a joke."

The demon sighed and bit his pale lip, but did not protest otherwise. He strode in front of Lydia as she set out across the veranda, pulling the door open swiftly and bowing his master inside Phantomhive manor.

It was dark inside. It was cold. The expansive front room curtains had not yet been opened, leaving the entrance hall looking like a sepulcher. The portraits upon the walls were shadowed as they headed for the main staircase. Chills of half-remembered dread were threading their way through Lydia's body as she swept along, peering all around, then all around again. She was waiting for someone whom she knew would not be here, could not be here, to step out of the shadows and bring the manor's undercurrent of menace to the surface. Up the stairs and down the hall, muted voices were murmuring, just like that day. Lydia stopped. Perhaps coming in this way hadn't been such a good idea after all…. She thought quite strongly of the servant's entrance in back, the comfortably anonymous way in which she had always entered until now. Her body started a bit in fright as Sebastian put his hands upon her shoulders. "Master, please calm down. There is nothing to be afraid of. The things you are remembering are merely shadows now."

"Some shadows are long." Lydia replied, glancing back toward the grand doors, through the bottom of which she could make out just the tiniest crack of sunlight.

Sebastian's face seemed to swim in common amidst the darkness, and his eyes glowed red. "Master, I will protect you." He murmured, attempting to guide her forward again. Lydia balked.

"How can you protect me against something that's already happened?"

The demon's eyes turned down, and he loomed over her, his presence clinging as the darkness all around them. "Please." He said. "Press on through your fearful memories….for….Ciel."

The girl's bright eyes turned up to the hallway on the second floor, remembering that her brother was waiting for her in some out-of-the-way room up there, remembering how unwilling he had been to let her leave the night before. Yes, Sebastian was right. She must not yield to the shadows, for Ciel's sake. Without a word, she began again the steady march across the empty hall, an unhappy demon trailing softly behind her.

On the second floor, the air grew warmer, and there were corridors washed in the natural light from outside. Sebastian sped up to walk beside Lydia as the pair drew nearer to the source of the murmurs. Around a corner there was gathered an impromptu huddle of men, dressed in fine clothing and top hats, muttering confidentially into the space between them all. They stopped as the two figures approached, and watched them pass attentively. Lydia tried to watch them without seeming to look, wondering if perhaps there were faces and voices here which she would recognize from times past. Further down the hall, they passed the occasional woman on her way to somewhere, and once, a door swung open and a child darted out, then ran back inside at the call of his mother. How many people were staying here? Lydia wondered as they progressed past the occupied parts of the manor. Down the lengths of several hallways which faced away from the sun, there was a grander door inlaid into the wall, which they drew up to. Lydia waited for Sebastian to knock, but instead he pulled her aside into an alcove.

"Master, I do not know how much time this meeting will occupy. My lord has forbidden me to stay; I must serve the tea and leave you two to privacy. However, afterward, if the light is not fading from the sky, will you linger here awhile? I want very much to talk with you."

So that was why he seemed so discontented. Ah, Sebastian. Lydia nodded, giving his shoulder a casual shove as she regained some of her usual ease. He put a hand on her head softly. "Call for me before you return to the occupied part of the manor. I don't want you walking around here alone until all of our guests have left us be." Rolling her eyes at the gentle remonstration, Lydia stepped out of his way as he proceeded to knock on the door, which opened very quickly to reveal a nervous-looking Ciel Phantomhive within. Lydia was seized with the sudden, maternalistic desire to soothe him as she stepped inside and greeted her little brother. Ciel nodded, gave a vague order for tea in Sebastian's general direction, and shut the door as the demon turned away.

The master's study was in much more tasteful order than it had been when its last master had occupied it, Lydia noticed immediately. The furniture matched now, and the velvet-red wallpaper prudently added to its general confidential feel. Back when Ciel's father had used this study, the décor had been ridiculously ostentatious at best, and utterly garish at worst. When she had still been a child, she had thought that the man simply had abominable taste in appropriate furnishings, but as she had grown older, she had realized that it was not Vincent, but Sebastian who dealt with the manor's room designs. Apparently, the husband of his then-master could force the demon to arrange his quarters, but he couldn't make him do it correctly. Ciel though, with the power of the contract directly behind him, apparently could.

The flaxen-haired boy gestured quietly to a miniature table set up in front of the room's window, probably intended for Ciel to recline and take refreshment upon when he was not working at his main desk. "Will you sit?" he murmured. Lydia sat down in the single chair, then got back up immediately to help her brother as he awkwardly attempted to pull his heavier desk chair over to the table. He flinched away spontaneously as her green-covered arm touched his, then stood in the middle of the floor, looking like he had absolutely no idea what to do as Lydia easily lifted the carved chair and carried it over to the window. The brown-haired girl suddenly recalled with startling clarity a nursery game that they had played when Ciel had been very small, in which she would lift up a chair that he was sitting on and carry it around the playroom while he laughed and crowed in delight. He had never been more than a foot off the ground, but to him it had felt like flying. They could play games like this for hours, and whenever they had walked outside the nursery, even if it was just to go down the hall, Ciel would cling contentedly to her hand. Yes, things had changed, she whispered in her mind as the two siblings shyly resumed their places at the window-table. Far more than she had realized on the first day that she had hidden outside the manor, things had changed with her brother.

"Madam Red….sends her regards." Ciel began quietly, staring out the window into the bright gardens below. "She wants to get together with you as soon as she returns from grandfather's estate. The funeral will be in a week. The guests here should be cleared out within a few days at most."

Lydia nodded, thinking gently of her mother's sister. "How is Aunt Angelina?"

"The same as she's always been." Ciel responded, looking back from the window. "She still works at the hospital, is obsessed with fashion, and attends every social event which comes her way. Even so, she hasn't found a husband yet. I'm not entirely sure she wants to. You remember how freewheeling she is."

Lydia nodded again. "Does she come around here often?"

Ciel shrugged. "She spends most of her time in London, where she works. She is most comfortable in the suave neighborhoods there. She comes out here for balls and the occasional holiday visit, and sometimes she drags me to London for social events during the season. I don't really like attending parties, though."

"I see." Lydia said softly. She was biting her tongue around the question that she really wanted to ask, and for some reason, she could not think of a smooth way to segue into it. She wished quite strongly that her flamboyant aunt _was_ there with them. Her easygoing manner would have made it much less stressful to maintain a conversation in this type of situation. _This is my brother,_ Lydia thought, daring to steal glance at his smaller figure_. I shouldn't be nervous._ That glance informed her that Ciel, who was unknowingly twisting his sleeve between his fingers, was thinking almost exactly the same thing. Nervously, she blurted out, "And how have _you _been, Ciel?"

The cobalt-blue eyes jumped to meet her own, and the boy seemed to curl into himself. Lydia understood; the question was huge. Seeking to help him out, she asked, "I mean, how is your school life going? And how are things at the manor? I noticed that you've hired some new help." She indicated down toward the garden, where the thatch-blonde head of the young gardener from yesterday was visibly poking out of a bush.

"Yes, Finnian is the gardener here now. Meirin is the maid, and Bard serves as our chef. I hired them on about three years ago to replace our older staff, everyone but Tanaka. With the death of my father, I felt it was time to bring some new blood into the Phantomhive service."

"They look like kind people." Lydia murmured, turning her eyes away from the familiar-and-yet-unfamiliar study which had used to belong to Vincent. "It is quite late, Ciel, but you have my condolences for the loss of your father."

"I know. I received your letter back then." The boy replied quickly, indicating to a certain drawer in his desk. "As for my schooling, it is going well. I am taught privately here at the manor by a vast array of authorities in many fields. Sebastian acts as my tutor when they are not around. There is much I need to learn in order to continue to expand the Funtom Company."

"I imagine so. Speaking of which, I have something to give you which once was lost." Lydia declared, figuring that she had better do it now before nervousness caused her to forget. She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a kerchief, which she carefully peeled open and held out to her brother. The Phantomhive family ring glinted coldly before his eyes. Ciel looked stunned.

"Mother gave that to you." Was all he said.

"Yes, for my jewel trousseau….but in truth, I never wanted it. I never wore it, even after she passed away. I only agreed to take it to soothe her mind as she was dying, but I always meant to give it back to you. With grandfather's death, you are the inheritor of the Funtom Company and the true head of the Phantomhive house. It's more fitting that you should have it, since it's so symbolic." Lydia brushed her braids behind her shoulders again as she laid the ring down in front of Ciel. He bit his lip and looked directly at her for the first time.

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What about _your_ birthright?" Ciel gestured all around him as he spoke.

"I already gave my birthright up to you when I left, five years ago, as you know." She reminded the small boy gently, trying to make the monumental statement sound as nonchalant as possible. "Forgive me, I should have made this clear upon first arriving, but things were very hectic yesterday, after all. I want to assure you that I haven't come back to reclaim any of your possessions for myself. The manor, the titles, the company, the fortune, Sebastian….they all stay with you. I came back for personal reasons alone."

"But, Lydia-" Ciel sputtered, using her name for the first time, "what are _you_ going to do?"

His expression was so comically incredulous that Lydia had to call upon great self-control in order to refrain from laughing. "I've been doing just fine over the past five years, Ciel." She reminded him, smiling out the window. "I'm quite certain that I can continue. I have employment; and that ring wasn't the only piece of jewelry that mother bequeathed to me. She gave me boxes and boxes of valuable pieces before she died, to be sold whenever my father or I felt the need for money. Even so, we've never had to depend on them. It's only recently that we've even opened the first box, to pay for my university education."

"But- wait- _university?"_ Ciel exclaimed, forgetting all mannerisms of politeness and gaping at her unabashedly. "You're _still _going to school?"

In the case of an older male, this blatantly sexist question would have made Lydia angry. Coming from her little brother, however, who clearly had no idea what he was saying, it was unexpectedly innocuous. She sat up straighter, and leaned forward toward him. "Ye-es, Ciel," she answered, with a little bit of a laugh in her voice. "I enrolled in the local university about half a year ago, in order to earn a degree that will help me in my career."

"I don't understand." He told her bluntly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry for my rudeness, but this is all a bit much for me to come to terms with so suddenly. You're _here,_ and you've got all this-all this- all these changes- a gigantic soul, apparently, and a university education, and you're older, and-"He sighed gustily, staring down at the ring on the tabletop. "I've wondered all this time about what you were doing with your life, away from this place."

"I'm sorry you had to wonder." She told him softly, convulsively, like a knee-jerk response. His eyes flashed up, and he seemed to gain a bit of his old temperament back.

"You….there's nothing for you to be sorry about." Ciel's shoulders drew together again, and he stared determinedly out the window. "If you feel so inclined, perhaps you could tell me about these things that you've been doing? Where have you been living? What happened after you left th-"

At that moment, a soft knocking sounded on the door. Flicking his eyes toward the noise in annoyance, Ciel called for his butler to enter. Sebastian slipped into the room silently, drawing the tea cart behind him with one hand and bowing gracefully toward the two at the table. His red eyes widened slightly as he seemed to take in the unexplained strangeness of the scene- Lydia looking serious and thoughtful, Ciel still looking as stunned as if he'd been run over by a cart-horse, and the Phantomhive family ring glittering on the table between them both. Ciel jerked his head at the demon. "Well? Don't just stand there, man! My sister and I have things to discuss."

Murmuring "yes, young master," Sebastian set about to setting out the scones and pouring the tea in an elegant fashion, going much more slowly than Lydia knew he was capable of. Ciel crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, staring once more at the ring. He seemed unwilling to begin the discussion again while Sebastian was still in the room. Lydia decided to honor his wishes on this, given that they were currently managing to have their first genuine (albeit slightly awkward) private conversation in five years, and she wanted to keep this going as well as possible. Sebastian glanced interestedly between the two of them, waiting for one of their faces to give away what was going on. The presence of the ring on the table seemed to especially concern him; he stared at it a long while. As he set her napkin down, he brushed up against her arm, and before she knew it, his pale lips were inches away from her ear. "Master," he whispered deeply, "I would implore you to consider your options before you act. Much had changed in five years. You have-"

"Sebastian, that's enough!" Ciel cut in loudly, and for a moment, the demon's eyes changed from their usual dark red. They lit up in fire, the pupil narrowed, and his face contorted into a vicious expression that was far less than human. Had he been looking into her eyes, Lydia was sure she would have cried out; her heart rattled like a dropped tin plate. She knew what Sebastian was, of course, but it had been a long time since she had had to physically confront that reality. What must it have been like for Ciel, she wondered suddenly, to face down a creature like Sebastian at so young an age, when the demon was angry and untethered from his family's ability to control him?

Ciel had not seen Sebastian's face, since he was facing away from him, but the young aristocrat saw Lydia stiffen and pull back, and he slapped his hand against the table aggressively. "Sebastian! Get out! That's-"

"Please, master, you've only just come back. Don't make any promises or rash decisions. Think about your place in this noble house." The demon intoned urgently, sliding the ring back across the table toward Lydia. Ciel's eyebrow shot up in confusion.

_Ah. So he knows._ Lydia thought. She leaned back in her chair, draping her arms over the sides. "You mean in regards to you?"

Sebastian peered into her face earnestly, his eyes not denying it. "Master, I have always been yours. I only want to serve you. You can still take what you refused back then. _Let me help you."_

"Sebastian-" Lydia began gently, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder. The demon seized her hand and pushed it back into her lap, brutal strength masking brutal pain revealing brutal desperation. "Master, _listen to me."_ He demanded, moving closer, his demeanor beginning to shift from submissive to dominant. "You need to understand what is before you. Everything is different now. That man is _dead._ I can-"

"_Enough."_ The voice of her brother cut across the room, surprising Lydia with its calmness. He intoned the command not as a shout, but as a final, definitive statement. Sebastian choked on his next word, and growled in frustration when he found himself no longer able to speak. Wrapping his fingers around her right arm, he appealed to Lydia with his eyes, while Ciel looked at her expectantly. The brown-haired girl just wanted to run at that point- these two together were an utter disaster- but she reminded herself that as the daughter of her father, she ought to show more courage. She placed her left hand on the demon's shoulder, and softly pushed him back.

"Sebastian, Ciel is right." She told him, trying to make her voice sound soothing, wondering if it would even make a difference. "He and I are trying to discuss private things right now; you should leave us be. I will talk to you later today. I'm not going to forget." The demon was not pleased, his red eyes flicking between her face and the ring yet again. "I know what I'm doing." Lydia murmured. Sebastian shook his ebony head emphatically. He pulled at her arm harder, and she firmly withdrew it. In what _could_ have been an accident- could have been, but wasn't, since Sebastian did not make mistakes of that kind- her violet ladies' glove separated from her right hand, and Lydia felt air seeping in through her bandages, startling her out of her confusion. She could almost sense the attention in the room re-directing with alarming rapidity. Knowing that it could not be hidden, she resignedly laid the limb out on her lap for all to see.

Sebastian immediately began to examine it with cat-like curiosity, picking it up and turning it over. He would remember how she had gotten it well, Lydia knew. It had been he who had bandaged it for the very first time. When the room remained silent, Lydia permitted herself to hope that maybe everything would be all right after all. However, these hopes were dashed as she looked up into Ciel's face, and felt her heart clench with remembered dread. His tidy young features had turned from startled to horrified. His shoulders had heaved back, and his fingers were clutching the chair's arms so hard that they had turned white. Lydia had always known that Ciel possessed a delicate disposition, and for a moment, she truly feared for his health. She started forward, pushing Sebastian aside and reaching out for her brother with her unbandaged arm. To her dismay, he once again shied away from her touch, leaning back into the chair as if it could protect him from what he was seeing.

"Ciel! _Ciel!_ It's all right." Lydia assured him, snatching the violet glove from Sebastian and attempting to shove it back onto her arm. The demon watched his young master expressionlessly.

The young boy never took his eyes off the white swath of gauze. "That….that is…." He murmured lowly, a despairing look suddenly heaving itself over his features, unbidden but unable to be contained. "That is….still there? It's still there. It hasn't healed….at all?" He glanced up into her eyes then, as if willing her to tell him otherwise. Lydia would have done so right away, with all her heart, but she knew that Ciel was smarter than to be taken in by childish platitudes of comfort. Bracingly, she told him, "It doesn't matter."

Ciel buckled at this, seeming to shrink before her eyes. He clutched at his head with one hand, obviously trying to remain as composed as possible while cracking on the inside. Lydia had no idea what to do. A moment later, the young aristocrat jerked to his feet and backed away from the table. "I apologize….most deeply. I apologize. I suddenly feel unwell….I think I shall need to go and lie down. Please….the servants will make sure of your comfort…." Ciel trailed off, staring at her, wide-eyed, and suddenly Lydia saw through the visage of the adult that he had put on to the child he really was. Just like he had been back then, he was frightened. She remembered him clinging all the time to the skirts of herself or her mother, but now there was no mother here for him, no family, only a great, empty house haunted by the presence of a demon. Feeling her face turn paler, Lydia dithered. It was in her nature to hold and embrace people when they were distressed, but she wasn't sure that she ought to risk it with Ciel, who seemed so averse to touch already. What had happened while she had been gone to make him like this? Before she could act in any way, Ciel had turned around and hurried toward the door. He whispered, "I apologize," once more, and then practically fled down the shadowed hallway. Lydia could only assume that he had internally compelled Sebastian to follow him, for the demon then raised himself up very reluctantly and trailed behind the young boy as he left. When he attempted to get too close, however, Ciel barked out sharply, "Don't touch me, demon!" and the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed back down the hallway. Rubbing his right cheekbone, Sebastian turned back around and motioned strongly for Lydia to stay where she was. Then the two figures vanished down the stairwell.

Lydia stood leaning against the small table, feeling as if she herself had just been run over by a cart-horse. Bringing one hand to her head in rather the same way that her brother had, she fought to blink back the tears that threatened the edges of her vision. What had she expected, anyway- smooth sailing? A seamless reunion? She had known when she had come back what this place was like-full of painful secrets and hidden land mines. These difficulties did not surprise her, but she could not deny that it hurt to have her bleakest expectations fleshed out in real life. Now she had brought back some severely painful memories for Ciel. Bother. Damnit. Things had been going along well, and then…._Sebastian._ Lydia hissed through her teeth as she tried to contain her sudden anger at the black-clad butler. He had slipped her right glove off on purpose, she knew he had, in order to disrupt their conversation. He'd known perfectly damn well what was underneath it, and how Ciel would react. He had gotten exactly what he wanted in that regard. Stupid, manipulative, interfering _demon._ Lydia sighed and clenched her bandaged fist, wondering what she ought to do now. She had half a mind to run after Ciel and try to talk him down from whatever ledge he had worked himself onto, but she knew that she would probably become lost in the maze of hallways and staircases. This part of the manor was not one in which she'd spent a great deal of time as a child. Neither did she particularly feel like waiting around the study until Sebastian came back, or she might end up throwing the table at the demon. Also, irritation aside….despite the fact that the décor had been completely altered, this was still _his_ study as Lydia had always known it. She glanced around uneasily, imagining that she could still see it the way that it had been in the past. Now that there were no other living presences in the room to distract her, she felt it all the more strongly. She ought not to be here. Nothing good could be here….

/

Ciel Phantomhive stood shakily by the large window in his bedroom, practically leaning against the wooden siding. He had removed his outer vest, clawing it off his body as one might tear away a suffocating shroud, and Sebastian was currently folding it calmly in the background. He waved the demon out immediately after he was finished, even though he knew that the first thing Sebastian would do would be to go and bother his sister once again. He did not feel forceful enough to stop him. Ciel wanted to be alone. The young boy leaned his pounding head against the cool glass, rubbing the scar on the back of his shoulder tentatively. It was deep, but it did not still hurt; and anyway, it was just one scar. He wondered how it would feel to have one's entire arm covered in them, deep and twisted. Mauled. Even after five years- he'd consoled himself by thinking they might have gone away!- her arm was still covered entirely in those bandages, the dreadful color of innocence. That color convicted him. Ciel drew a shallow, shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes closed as he fearfully let himself give in to the truths that he'd tried to suppress. He could suppress them no longer, not when she was right in front of him. _She hates me. I know she does. It was my fault. I ruined….everything for her. My existence took away everything that should have been hers. She was always kind to me, but I only ever caused her pain. I ruined her arm and I ruined her chances for a comfortable life. She doesn't want to be a part of this cursed family anymore. She came to give the Phantomhive ring back for good._

_/_

Lydia leaned out the window, pushing off from the ledge and flying out over the trellis for the second time that month. She landed on the ground and rolled over in the grass, burying her face within the sweet green blades. For awhile, she just lay still and wondered where she ought to go. _Was this a mistake?_ She thought, gripping the grass in her fingers. _I don't want to hurt Ciel any more than he's already been damaged. But looking at him, I can tell that my presence is dredging up all the memories that he's probably desperate to forget. He's so different from the way he used to be, as well. Is this….really going to be all right?_

Moaning as confusion clashed with faith inside her mind, the brown-haired girl rolled over onto her back, cobalt-blue eyes staring up at the sky, the endless blue. She drew a deeper breath. _It's too early to despair. Anyway, none of this is really _my_ plan to begin with. I just have to accept that it's going to be very hard. But You don't make mistakes….of any kind. So I suppose I'll stay._ Internal dilemma temporarily resolved, Lydia bit her lip and shifted to her feet, setting out upon the gardens in search of a certain, special tree which she remembered from times long gone, a place where she could feel a bit more safe.

**Review? :3**


	9. In the Gardens

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**The Phantomhive gardens are so elegant mainly because of Sebastian, who is called upon to do all manner of things in order to keep the estate running. Finnian, as we all know, is adorable but mostly incompetent. XD**

**For those of you who have never employed domestic servants before (which I'm guessing would be most of us,) it should be known that Ciel's previous indignation is fully justified by the sensibilities of the time period. Sebastian does take a great deal of liberties in the way that he relates to Lydia, who is his master. Normally, this would not be acceptable. He can get away with it because Lydia allows it, which is something that we'll get into later. :)**

**'jogged out of kelter'- to 'jog something out of kelter' would be the 19th-century equivalent of 'to mess something up' or 'to throw something off track.'**

**'beautiful'- In the modern time period, this adjective is used almost exclusively with women in mind; however, in the era of this story it was more gender-neutral, and could be used to describe the overall physical attractiveness of either sex.**

**Anyway, enjoy the new chapter! And for those of you who celebrated it, I hope you had a very happy Easter! :3**

The Phantomhive gardens were so beautiful and well-kept that Lydia could not help but feel that it was somehow wrong to be wandering around them while in the mood she was currently in. She remembered these gardens to be just as they had remained; ageless, never-dying, rotating to suit the whims of the manor's owners. The plants in the gardens were constantly alive, no matter what the season. They were occasionally exchanged for newer or more exotic ones, and she recalled that as a child, whatever she had wished for in this garden had always appeared. When she was six, a week after she had tasted her first peach and declared it to be the most delicious fruit in the whole world, a fruit-bearing peach tree had magically grown up overnight outside her nursery window. She still remembered reaching out for peaches in the summer, whole play-tables full of peach slices and weak peach tea. Back then, she had thought that the garden was charmed by some sort of fairy who granted wishes. Now, she found herself inexplicably heading for that place near the eastern wall where she had spent so much of her childhood. The peach tree was still there, which did not surprise her in the slightest. The green buds upon the branches were beginning to ripen in the Spring air. Soon there would be peaches that would fill the tree, would fall to the ground, more peaches than she would know what to do with. She wondered who had eaten all those peaches while she'd been away.

The brown-haired girl reached out for the branches, running her hands across the familiar limbs which had grown longer and sturdier in her absence. How long since this tree had felt her touch! If trees possessed sentient spirits, she imagined that this one must have become melancholy, waiting through season upon season and every kind of weather for her return. She thought of it resolutely putting out fruit every summer, in hopes that her hands would reach up once again to pluck it. Feeling a wave of nostalgia pierce her chest, Lydia spread out her dress and slid down the trunk to the ground with her back to the tree, angling her head upward to gaze into the branches. The green-budded arms reached down, wanting to embrace her. "Poor tree." she murmured softly as a Spring breeze swept through the countryside afternoon. "Did you think I had forgotten you? Were you lonely, left behind so suddenly? If only you knew how hard it was for me to leave this place, where you sheltered me so well! Maybe then you would forgive me."

The young girl sighed, thinking back over the troubling events which had just occurred inside the manor. The peach tree was not the only being that had been rooted here without a choice, forced to wait in this hostile ground while she had been out in the world, growing wise and savvy and strong. _Oh_ _Sebastian,_ she thought with a half-sigh, absentmindedly tugging up a handful of grass by the roots. Then, as if her thought had summoned him, she looked up and he was there. The demon had stopped several yards away and was peering at her hesitantly, with his head tilted to one side. His black butler's uniform stood out pointedly against the colorful hues of the flowers all around him. Lydia quickly summoned a cross expression to her face.

"I ought to be angry."

He approached her swiftly and silently, and lowered himself to the ground by her side. He turned his red eyes upon Lydia, pointedly tracing a long finger over his pale lips.

"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" Lydia growled, sliding her knees up to her chest and pivoting away from him. Sebastian made several more hand signs in her general direction, trying to communicate pain. He knew that she would respond to that.

Lydia sighed again. "_Bother_ you, Sebastian. Come here."

He leaned his head onto her shoulder, and she pressed her own fingers over his mouth, willing the needle that was still lodged in there to disappear. His hair was soft, and his body was heavy. Annoyed at how unashamed he seemed, Lydia pushed him away as soon as she was through. He curled up against the tree trunk too, and looked at her with expectant eyes. She allowed the pieces of grass to trickle out of her fingers and float away in the wind. "You jogged that _completely_ out of kelter for me." Sebastian said nothing, watching the green blades as they rode into the sky. "You meant to do that, didn't you?"

"Yes, master."

"Why?" Lydia asked honestly. "Why do you feel the need to complicate my life even more, when I just got back? I understand that you're angry that I left in the first place-"

"Master, you cannot give him the ring!" Sebastian burst out strongly, producing said ring from his pocket and holding it out to her. Lydia snatched her hand away as though it were a snake. The demon clenched his own hands tightly and moved closer to her sitting form. "Please, take it. Your mother gave it to you, after all."

"_No,_ Sebastian. You know very well I was never meant to have it. My mother broke Phantomhive family tradition when she gave me this ring, and now I'm returning it to its rightful owner. I don't want it on my finger."

"You _can't,_ master." He insisted determinedly. "You are the oldest child. It is your right and your duty to-"

"Sebastian, why on earth do you care whether or not I've got this ring? It's just a ring. There are plenty of others. You of all people should know how material things pass away."

"Master…."

"Wait." Lydia said, her mind catching up with her mouth as she glanced down dubiously at the shining blue stone. "This isn't about the ring. Is it? It's about what it represents…." She gazed seriously at Sebastian, reaching up to rub her bandaged hand over one deep blue eye. "You still want me to take the contract, don't you?"

"_Yes."_ The demon intoned, turning his red eyes upon Lydia and leaning in closer. "Very much."

"Is that even possible? You're already bound to my brother. You can't free yourself from that. It doesn't seem like a demon could have two contracts at once." The brown-haired girl reasoned carefully, sweeping her braids behind her shoulders and staring up at the window of her old nursery.

Sebastian growled a little, fisting his contract hand around the ring, but he answered calmly. "Normally, it is not possible. Answering to more than one master contradicts the notion of complete servitude, which is what a contract entails on the part of a demon. However, in your case, I have been bound to you from birth, since you are my truly intended master. As you demonstrated before, we share a connection that even my forced….attachment to your brother has not interfered with. Therefore, I am still able to form a fully effective contract with you."

Trying to avoid his eyes, Lydia's blue orbs turned downward and latched onto the white swath of bandages on her right arm. It had literally been her visual aid before; and seeing it now helped her to clear her mind. These past few days had witnessed the stirring up of many old memories, truths which she hadn't had to contend with since she'd left the manor. Sebastian was a demon; a silver-tongued, graceful creature that could convince humans that the sky was orange if he so chose. And Lydia, despite the addition of some fantastical gifts, was still fully human, still susceptible to his powers of persuasion. Normally, the only way for a master to avoid being batted around by the illusions of their contracted demon was to utilize their powers over said demon, making it feel pain and hampering its ability to use its own powers. However, Lydia had never desired to hurt Sebastian; she still did not, even though it was clearly obvious that the demon wanted to pull her in. Now, she thought, she no longer needed to worry about such things. She could be stronger than Sebastian where it counted. The bandaged limb served as a concrete, physical reminder of everything she had seen and done since the day that she'd received it.

"Master…..?" Sebastian inquired, reaching up to gently take hold of her unbandaged arm. Lydia swung her head back from the garden, waking herself from her thoughtful stupor.

"Sebastian, you know why I can't do that."

The demon's grip tightened incrementally, and he frowned. "Master, that was before, when you had to leave this place. Now that you've returned, everything that you left behind is waiting for you. You know that I am the key to the Phantomhive's wealth and success. Whoever holds me will hold the dignity of the true successor. Your illegitimate birth will cease to matter in light of the power that I can give you."

Lydia shook her head, then leaned it back against the tree trunk in sudden weariness. "Oh, Sebastian. That is wrong in so many ways." She murmured. "First of all, I have no desire to be the true successor of the Phantomhive house, nor to inherit the company. I already made this clear to Ciel today, before you came into the study. I relinquished all my prospects to him when I left five years ago, and I stand by that decision today. He seems to have benefitted from it as I hoped he would, and I have definitely been blessed to lose those things. The only thing I regret," she told him, looking the demon in the eye, "is that I had to leave you two behind."

"Master, I am trying to tell you that you do not _have_ to give up the contract. You can still restore it." The demon insisted, drawing Lydia closer to his side. He bit his lip and stared down at the ring as she looked away. "I apologize for bringing up a topic with so many distressing memories for you, but master, you force my hand." He attempted once again to press the blue piece of jewelry onto her finger. She deftly shook her dark-braided head.

"No, Sebastian. I don't want the power, and furthermore, accepting the contract with you would be tantamount to declaring myself a rival to my brother. That is exactly the opposite of what I came here to do. It would be highly counterproductive."

"_You_ are the firstborn. It is your right-"

"_No,_ Sebastian." Lydia repeated wondering how many times she was going to have to say it. "This isn't about rights and duties. Not at all. And finally….I refused the contract the first time because my nature would not allow me to accept it. You know that. I wanted to live freely in the world, without a demon overshadowing my life. This has not changed."

They stared at each other underneath the shade of the sturdy tree, the soft breezes of Spring swirling all around them. Sebastian bit his lip, and Lydia suddenly felt her entirely human heart shift towards him; he couldn't help being a demon, after all, and she understood exactly why he wanted her to take the contract so badly, why he'd waited so impatiently for her return. Still, this was an area in which she knew she would not be moved. Not that she had really expected Sebastian to give up that easily.

"I promise that I will not overshadow you, master." The demon declared persuasively. "I may simply hover a little. I am sure that five years in the world has not altered your tendency towards clumsiness. It would suit us both for me to stay by your side and protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me anymore, Sebastian." Lydia's voice came out soft, harmonizing with the thrum of the gentle wind through the leaves above their heads.

"With all due respect, considering the extremely scarce amount of knowledge which you possessed regarding the world before you so recklessly threw yourself out into it, it is a miracle you've survived to return to your birthplace at all."

Lydia did not dispute this part of his argument. "Yes, but I have survived." She pointed out, rolling her arms languidly onto the grassy ground. "And now I am older, wiser, and stronger. I am taking care of myself, and I intend to carry on in this manner. I do not need the Phantomhive's fortune, and I do not wish to establish the contract."

The demon sat up suddenly, his red eyes flaring as he loomed over the slender human. He jerked his hand off of her arm and dug it into the peach tree's trunk instead, clawed fingers making grating noises against the wood. Lydia stood her ground, looking the unholy creature straight in the eyes. She would not be taken in by his honey-sweet voice and graceful reasoning; neither by his angry red eyes and ominous presence. There were ways, apart from torturing him, that would serve to make Sebastian understand that she was serious in her intentions.

"Why have you returned then, master? What is your purpose?" the demon demanded in a sharper voice, narrowing his bloody eyes into slits. "Did you only come to watch the demise of your persecutor? Do you intend to simply vanish again after this last familial affair is through?"

Lydia could hear the accusation within the anger, and she almost looked away. Feeling that there had already been more than enough misunderstandings within this afternoon, she shook her braided head emphatically. "No, Sebastian- I should say not! I already told you that it is my time to return to the manor, and not just for a day, either. I rather intend to involve myself with this place again, so long as I am able."

Sebastian held very still, his narrow eyes becoming wider and staring down into hers from the black-topped height from which he loomed over her. Lydia did not know what he was feeling, did not know what he _could_ be feeling, since demons were said to sense things quite differently than humans did. Nevertheless, she felt that this moment of temporary incapacitation was a good time to make peace, so she gently pushed up the sleeve of her unbandaged arm and offered it to him. It took Sebastian several moments to react and hook it in his own arm, affixing himself to her side. "You intend to be here again….?" he murmured, drawing the claws on his other hand out of the peach tree's bark.

"Yes, Sebastian." Lydia told him, feeling his tense, dark aura begin to lessen incrementally. If she had felt like being humorous, she would have asked, _Are you pleased?_ As it was, she didn't need to.

"Then why not stay the night?" The demon queried, seeming to have recovered his usual suave manner. "You could recline in your old room if you choose. I-"

"Oh bother you, Sebastian!" Lydia cut in sternly, remembering why she was out here in the first place. "Who are you to be inviting me to stay in the manor when you've just created such a hard situation for me in there? My poor brother! I had thought to become more familiar with him before revealing the appearance of my right arm. He's positively traumatized about it….even now." She sighed, leaning her head back against the tree once again. "You do realize, don't you, that my future involvement with Phantomhive manor depends on my ability to form a working relationship with Ciel. I don't want to fail him. So if you want me to stay, you shouldn't impede this process anymore, like you've just done."

There was a parturient pause. "….So, then. You came back for _him."_

Lydia felt like slapping her palm to her forehead. "Stupid demon, I came back for you too. Just not in the way that you've been expecting."

"But-"

"Have I not helped you?" she asked more gently, indicating toward their linked arms. Sebastian's red eyes stared out across the gardens, toward the study window.

"Yes, master, and I wish to be of service to you as well. But you know that as long as you refuse to take the contract, my ability to protect you is incomplete."

"It's a risk that I've taken for the past five years. I will continue to do so."

"But _why,_ master? The reasoning upon which you have been operating since your departure- and which led to such an event in the first place- is highly illogical. Even if your brother is dear to you, that does not mean you ought to give up everything for him. You are allowing your human empathies to get the better of you, to take from you that which should be yours." Sebastian insisted intensely. The brown-haired girl huffed as a warm breeze flooded the gardens. She could see it from her vantage point beside this tree- the path which she had taken as she had left the manor for the last time, five years ago. That day was still keen in her mind. The whispers, the shouts. It had been raining as she had rushed along with nothing much but the clothes on her back. Her skin had been riddled with bruises, like overcast clouds. Big, dark splotches from the blows dealt by the people inside the manor, who had done their utmost to drive her away- and small, light finger-markings from Sebastian's hands. He had exhausted them both with trying to make her stay in that last hour. She recalled that in the days ahead, while she had lain nearly incapacitated with shock and amazement in her father's house, she had been most distraught as she had watched these tiny markings fade from her skin. They had been precious proof that someone cherished her, that somebody wanted her enough to hold onto her so tightly that it hurt. No matter what, she couldn't be angry at Sebastian for that. Even if he was a stupid demon.

"Sebastian-" she began, hugging her free hand to the side off her arm. At that moment, however, they found themselves interrupted by the sudden noises of a chattering group of humans, materializing into the air very suddenly, as if someone had opened a door in the manor. As the noise grew closer to their tree, Sebastian stood up fluidly, gently using his linked arm to lift Lydia to her feet. He frowned at the wall from around which the voices were approaching. "It would seem that a number of our 'guests' have decided to take an afternoon stroll. Come with me, master, we ought to go back inside." Lydia hesitated, looking toward the road. She didn't need to leave right now, but soon….. Yet Sebastian had followed her eyes, and a moment later, he was deftly steering her back toward the building, his monstrous strength viable within his body even as he kept in under control. Lydia knew that she could stop him if she really wanted to, but she tactfully decided to let him have his way this time. They hadn't seen each other in five years, after all; she ought not to be running off again so soon.

"Master, if it would please you to consider what I've said…." The demon sought to continue his persuasion as they approached the servants' entrance near the back. Lydia closed her eyes. A moment later, the young girl ground her heels to a halt and deftly pushed the demon away so that she was facing him. Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise, and he winced in pain as her hand left his own. Lydia considered him for a moment, bright blue eyes on deep, dark red.

"You're as beautiful as I remember you to be, Sebastian."

The demon looked utterly lost.

"You're strong and clever and talented. You know many things….much more than I will ever be aware of. You're powerful- I know you are- and you've lived for countless lifetimes. You talk to me about family and brothers and _'human empathies'_ as though you know them through and through, but-" Lydia tilted her head, her braids falling to one side- "you really don't understand, do you? You have a heart, but you cannot love."

The demon twitched as some kind of discomfort seized him. He looked away, and then forced himself to look back. "Master, I may have never felt these emotions personally, but I have lived long enough and seen enough of human failings to know that there is no value in such things as family and love. You ought not to let these illusions impede you."

"If there was no value in these that 'impede' me, don't you think that we humans would have figured that ought by now? We're not quite as stupid as you think we are. We do learn from our mistakes." Lydia crossed her arms and stood herself up tall. "We as a species have been alive for goodness-knows how long, and from age to age we stubbornly continue to gravitate toward love. There is an intrinsic value in such that you cannot learn of by merely observing; you must feel it for yourself. If you could do this, you would understand why I left, and why I cannot now take the contract and put myself up against my brother."

"And what did _he_ ever do for you?" Sebastian demanded lowly. He did not need to draw himself up, as he was already taller than Lydia. "He is not even your full blood sibling. He is only your brother by halves. Have you forgotten whose son he is? Did you run so far away that you lost your memories of that man and all he did to you?"

"Of course not." Lydia countered, pressing a hand to her forehead in sudden weariness. "Of course not, Sebastian. But I cannot hate Ciel simply for what his father was. That kind of thinking will doom me."

"That kind of thinking will preserve you!" Sebastian protested, gesturing violently toward the study window. If he had been a less self-controlled demon, Lydia had a feeling that he would have stamped his foot, and perhaps cracked the gardens in half. "That boy is exactly his father in miniature! Power-hungry, cold, inconsiderate, arrogant. I know of what I speak in this matter, master! I have been chained to him for the past five years, and he has made me feel every one of his vices." The black-haired creature clenched his fists tightly, glaring toward the window behind which her brother usually sat. Lydia bit her lip, shaken, but she refused to give in. She didn't like what she was seeing, but she was seeing things more clearly now.

"And you yourself are neither power-hungry, cold, inconsiderate, nor arrogant, Sebastian?"

"I am a _demon."_ He insisted, as though it were a valid excuse. Then, seeing that she was not going to be swayed, he turned in frustration toward the gardens and braced himself against a wall, his back to her. In a voice so low that she could barely hear him, he whispered bitterly, "You don't know how I've suffered. Although I don't know if you care…."

She felt his breath hitch in surprise as she circled around him, pulled him back toward her, and embraced him tightly. The demon's body froze, hard as stone. Lydia was tall enough now that her head rested over his chest, and she could hear the hollow emptiness inside of him where there should have been a heartbeat. She understood his nature; but still, this made her sad. "Of course I care about you." Lydia declared, re-connecting her hand with his bare wrist. "You're such a stupid-" she gave a tiny half-laugh, "stupid, interfering, bothersome demon- but I'd be lying horribly if I said I hadn't missed you all these years. I know that you've suffered."

Outwardly, Sebastian remained still as a statue. It was only because she was so close to him that Lydia could sense his tense body beginning to relax, just a little. Suddenly, the sound of heavy, booted, running feet flashed through her ears. The brown-haired girl barely had time to push herself away from the butler before a red-haired figure burst onto the scene and immediately latched onto her former place, all the while wailing, "Mister Sebaaaaastiaaaan!" as if the world were coming to an end. Sebastian jerked out of his reverie and immediately set about trying to pry the figure off him, while it continued to wail incoherently. Lydia could now see that it was the figure of a woman, perhaps a few years older than herself, and dressed in a maid's uniform. She had a cute face, the upper portion of which was mainly covered in large glasses, and (Lydia could not help but notice,) she had rather large breasts as well. Furthermore, she seemed to be in a state of high panic.

As Lydia stared, the black-haired demon succeeded in briefly freeing himself from the clutches of the maid, who immediately seized him again as he tried to step back. "Meirin, what is the matter?" he demanded smoothly, casting his eyes all about the garden as the two staggered around in a tangled circle. The woman gestured furiously to somewhere in the distance, but it was unclear exactly where she was pointing to.

"Is it Ciel?" Lydia stepped forward, seized by a sudden and intense worry. The woman stopped blubbering and gaped at her, as if she had just appeared out of thin air.

"Who- who are you?"

"We'll become acquainted later, I am sure." Lydia answered, neatly dodging the question. "Is Ciel all right?"

"Th- the young master is fine, as far as I know." Meirin answered, wiping her eyes on her apron. "But oh, Mister Sebastian! You must come right away!"

"What has happened?" the demon asked, slipping his gloves back on.

"One of the guests!- she's fallen into the garden river! She was crossing the bridge but there was a hole in it because Finnian dropped a tree there earlier this morning and she didn't see it and she fell through and now she's trapped in the mud and she's ever so angry!" The panicked woman explained without a single pause.

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, glancing worriedly at Lydia. "Can Finnian not extract her? I am with someone at the moment."

"He'll hurt her with his strength!"

The demon sighed, looking as though he would quite like to throw every single one of the unwelcome guests at the Phantomhive manor into the river to join the woman. "Very well. I shall come with you." He motioned to Lydia, leading her over to the servants' entrance, a little, ivy-covered door which was practically growing into the wall. "Mas- ah- Will you please wait inside? You recall where the kitchens are, yes?" She nodded up at him, and he helped her onto the crumbling doorstep. "Please wait for me in there. I shall try not to be long. By no means should you ascend into the regular manor unaccompanied. Meirin, follow me." Sebastian bowed to Lydia, and then strode off, still looking rather upset with the whole affair. The maid named Meirin set out behind him, turning often to look back curiously at Lydia. She attempted to ask Sebastian who she was, but by this time the demon was moving so fast that the red-haired human had to flat-out run in order to keep up.

Lydia watched them as they swept across the gardens and vanished down the steps which led to the second terrace. Alone at last, she glanced up at the comfortable, familiar servants' door. It was kind of funny, she thought with a repressed smile. This was the door through which she had departed that time, on that rainy day. She had hugged Sebastian on that day much like she'd hugged him just now- only much harder. She had been crying. He had not cried (he never cried) but he clung onto her, overpowering, overbearing. He had refused to let her go. His fingers had bruised her. She had finally forced his hands to release her. Then she had painfully, deliberately peeled off everything he had tried to make her, handed it back to him, and ran out into the rain. She had known that it would wash her footprints and her scent and her past away, quickly, quickly. He had stood in the doorway as she vanished under the curtain of falling rain, unable to follow, leaning against the frame as though he had lost the strength to stand. That rejection (for it _had_ been a rejection, as much as she still cared about Sebastian,) continued to burn him, she knew. And just yesterday (had it really been just yesterday?) she had taken the Phantomhive ring out of the box, dressed herself in mourning clothes, and came back in the same way that she had left. It really was a funny world, Lydia thought to herself as she swung open the inviting door and slipped inside, fully intent on hurrying to the kitchens and finding herself some of the tea, scones, and quiet thinking time which she had been denied earlier.


	10. Beginnings of Memory

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**I just realized that I haven't done this yet. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Kuroshitsuji. Please don't sue me, or else I shall have to flee the country because I am poor, making it impossible for me to finish this story. If you've come this far reading it, I assume that you'd care. XD**

**I will give more information about specific place references in the next chapter, probably. For now, I don't want to give important plot points away. :)**

**Putting the cart before the horse: An English expression. If someone says that you are putting the cart before the horse, it means (in modern lingo,) "You're getting ahead of yourself." In this instance, what Lydia is trying to say is "You're _really_ getting ahead of yourself."**

**Tuppence: Colloquial reference to two-pence, or two pennies- a very cheap amount of money in Victorian English currency. If someone doesn't care tuppence about something, it means that they don't consider it to have much value. **

**So I've gotten some questions lately about whether I have written any other fanfics, and for what fandom. It just so happens that I have, actually! XD If you don't care about the other random stories that I've got floating around on my computer, please carry on with reading this one. For everyone else's information: I have two Naruto fanfics, one Harry Potter, and one Vampire Knight, all in various stages of being done. One of my Naruto fics is half-finished, and the other is just bits and pieces of what would be a really long story if I ever did write it all, involving nearly everyone in the cast. :P I only have the first few chapters of the Harry Potter and Vampire Knight fics, and I will probably never finish them, due to the fact that they'd be _really_ complex. Oh, and I also have the beginning of an Avatar: Last Airbender fic, which my sister demanded that I write; but that doesn't really count. :)**

**So then, on with this story! **

Sebastian stood in the middle of a marshy, boggy river, watching a group of men labor to haul to shore the lady whom he had just pulled out of its mud-coated bottom. He was paying no attention to any of them; truly, the entire annoying situation seemed to merely bear down upon his mind. The lady had been grateful, gracious. She had taken one look at his ethereal features and porcelain skin, and had held out her hand to be rescued. Her undignified squawks had turned into graceful coos. It was as if she thought that this sort of event might _mean_ something, she, the lovely damsel in distress, and he, the tall-dark-and-handsome hero of the hour. Sebastian thought that he would never understand the endless silliness of the human species. And what could an event like this possibly mean? He was merely doing what was necessary in order to ensure the continuation of his master's house's good reputation. He did not bother to follow the woman to shore, instead turning around and wading through the shallow water to the opposite bank, leaving the mud-covered aristocrat to play up sympathies among her fellows through the use of dramatic lamentations on the state of her dress. He had placed Meirin in charge of accompanying the woman inside and replacing her garments, a task better suited to a lady servant, although he suspected that the woman would not have objected to his doing it. The dark-haired creature brushed off the reaching gazes of both of them as he headed swiftly for the manor, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he felt the soaking wet bottom halves of his pant legs slap dully against his calves. He would have to change his attire before he presumed to appear before his master again.

Lydia: Lydia, Lydia, Lydia, Lydia. What surprised him the most was her stubbornness, her firm adherence now to the path which she had chosen back then. She had actually refused him today- refused him multiple times, and calmly! The Lydia of the past had not been like this. From the time that she had first gained awareness to the time when she had reached thirteen years of age, Lydia had been quite agreeable toward him. Sebastian had found it comfortingly easy to subliminally influence her in whatever direction he thought best. This was owed in part to the fact that she had been a child, impressionable and inexperienced; but also due merely to her nature. Lydia had been a peaceful type who preferred calm and balance in her life, and it was calm and balance which Sebastian had given her, so she had never known reason to oppose him. This was why her refusal to take the contract, on the very eve of the expected ceremony, had come as such a shock to everyone- especially him, _especially _him. The entire population of Phantomhive manor had reeled. _Where_ had that come from? Over the ensuing months, her aunt, her mother, and himself, _especially _him, had all endeavored to convince her to change her mind. For the good of the family, for the good of her future, for the good of something. And yet she had refused. She had _refused _him. This tiny girl, who had been too shy to even speak at the family reunions, who had spent half her time hiding behind her butler from the other males of the household, who had trusted him and allowed him to ease his pain through her means, was now rejecting this most important of bonds. And not merely once, but over months and months of continuous persuasion, she still continued to refuse. Where had that strength come from? Sebastian was furious; with her, but mostly with himself. He had done something wrong. He had practically raised this child, but throughout all the time spent with her, he had been careless. He had allowed something, somewhere to slip into her consciousness which he should have barred. He had been too assured. An ostentatious manor haunted by a demon, indwelled by an arrogant and cruel family, a family which had been banned from the Church, no less!- surely, he had reasoned, there was little chance of The Named ever managing to slip its quiet way into the hearts of anyone here, especially his little master, around whom he spent so much time and exerted so much influence. But he had underestimated that spirit. Lydia had not been acting on her strength alone; alone, she never could have stood up to the combined force of all those displeased adults. It became more and more obvious, as he looked into her eyes, that within their shine was revealed the presence of that which he could never see directly. The Named had planted a seed inside her. Then, knowing that it could never bloom within such a harsh environment, the spirit had endeavored to pull her away entirely, to supplant her in the soil of its chosen world. And it had succeeded. Despite how desperately Sebastian had fought against it, determined to undo the seriousness of his mistake through sheer force of will, the spirit had taken Lydia away. This fact was the dreadful shock and the utter bane of his existence; he still spent most of his cursed days wondering how on earth it had happened, how his utterly brilliant plan could have fallen so badly. All the factors within the environment had been in his favor, everything, and yet she had still managed (without effort!) to gain an awareness of The Named, and with that awareness, to follow him. It was utterly incomprehensible. He wondered if it was at this point in time, even before the occurrence of _that _incident, that Lydia's soul had begun to expand.

And now she was back, yes, she was within his reach again, but in temperament she had utterly changed. She had verified her human notions of family and love through whatever she had been doing out there in the world, and was now as stubborn as a rock about them. She had grown physically too; she was no longer a diminutive size for her age, but seemed to have hit a growth spurt, rising up to graceful height and normal proportions. And what was this fine-tempered, half-amused gleam which she kept in her eyes? Most disconcerting of all was the new way in which she looked at him. It was as if she had gained new knowledge, as if she understood him better now, instead of simply observing him. But how could this be, since she had been away for so long? Frustrated, Sebastian clenched his contract hand as he strode along, whisking down the back hallways of the manor to his out-of-the-way bedroom. One thing he was certain of; he was going to get his master back. Whatever undesirable qualities she may have gained from the world and from the spirit, she was still Lydia, still possessing that which he desired the most. That inexplicable willingness to accept him, to let him in and to feel for him, had remained untouched. He needed that, especially after everything he'd been through. She was smarter now; he was going to have to try a method other than direct persuasion if he wanted her to take the contract. Still, Sebastian had never been one to back down from a challenge. This time, he was going to redeem his mistake.

The demon pulled a fresh pair of black trousers out of his dresser, and slipped them on. He peeled his outer butler's vest off next, stained with muddy handprints, and tossed it into the corner, to be cleaned that night. He sifted through his uniforms in search of another one, glancing up from his dresser suddenly to gaze at his reflection in the mirror. His chest was pale and defined. His pants wrapped around his hips, only just covering the place where the mark was laid into his flesh. Sebastian's fingers reached down to hover over it as he drew nearer to the glass, treading slowly. Up close, he looked at himself, his perfect body, features which both desired and caused desire. He pressed his palms against the mirror and leaned down toward it, closing his eyes. He wished that he could feel as well on the inside as he knew he looked on the outside. Strong, controlling, calm…. But such was the existence of one such as himself, a demon, perpetually doomed to agony and unfulfilled desire. The souls of humans on which he fed would never completely eradicate his hunger, and all of the blood and misery spilled out upon the earth could never slake his thirst. And forever, forever, this fire would burn him….

Sebastian twisted his shoulders in discomfort as the flames flared up within his chest, as if they were conscious of being thought of. The flames were sentient, he was sure of it, almost. This was a private horror which he kept within him, hoping that he could make it not true by refusing to give voice to it. He _hated _the idea that he was bound inextricably to something which laughed at his weakness and gloried in his pain. He hated it. How he longed to rip it out of him, once and for all!...but he could only imagine what this would feel like. The demon panted and squirmed, just barely refraining from digging his claws into the mirror's pane. Quiet, monosyllabic noises of complaint were forced up his throat into the still air of the room. He thought of before, of Lydia's arms wrapped around him by the peach tree, and he bit his lip. That response had been so unexpected that he hadn't known what to do. They had just been arguing, and then she had gone and hugged him. Humans were very strange. Even so, the familiar gesture had not been unwelcome. Sebastian winced as another tongue of fire brushed against his heart. He had not touched her skin for long enough to protect him from this. Even with Lydia here, with the light of her soul in the air, he still couldn't get rid of the pain entirely, although it was much better than it would have been had she not come today. He needed to work on convincing her to stay the night. Intent on distracting himself, he closed his red eyes again and spread his demonic senses out through the manor. Lydia was in the kitchen, exactly where he had hoped she would be. He ought to go and speak with her now; there was not much time, if she really was planning to leave before nightfall. The demon peeled his hands off the mirror and set about slipping on a clean white undershirt and black outer vest as he headed down the dim hallway. He hissed as the burning relentlessly pursued him, and twisted in anger against its tight hold. He wished that he could confront the worm and rip it in half, or at least demand that it leave him alone. But alas, this was not an option for one such as himself. All confrontations with that creature were fated to go very badly for him.

Lydia was finishing up her tea when Sebastian entered the room. The girl had seated herself at the kitchen counter, her green-covered legs dangling half-on, half-off of the worn wooden chair. The demon bowed deeply, quietly drawing up alongside her and leaning against the counter. She seemed more at ease here than out in the open. Languidly, she rolled her cup out of her hand and back onto the countertop. "Hullo, stupid demon. Did you rescue the angry aristocrat?"

Sebastian nodded, then frowned. "Master, I apologize for sending one such as yourself into the servant's quarters in this manner. I do not mean to offend your sensibilities. It is only because you are still not safe in the general household, but once the guests leave-"

Lydia choked on another sip of tea, guffawing lowly as she set it aside. She swallowed and gave him a cockeyed smile, which masked a harder look. "And what sensibilities are these, Sebastian? You really are too funny."

"A lady of your social class-"

"Sebastian, just because you live with and serve humans, doesn't mean that you must parrot their more ignorant beliefs. You know better, don't you? I don't care what they teach at the Royal Preparatory Academy nowadays. My own studies have convinced me that peoples' 'sensibilities' are half learned mannerism and half hereditary chance. And I spent my entire childhood running around the servants' quarters and playing in this kitchen. It is far more comfortable and appropriate for me than is the main manor."

Sebastian frowned; troublesome indeed, the things this girl had learned while she was away. Still, he did not want to displease her, so he inclined his head and murmured, "Yes, master."

"You're ridiculous." She said more seriously, reaching out to brush a piece of black hair out of his eyes. Her bare fingers, temptingly sweet, floated across his forehead like butterfly wings, feeding his painful discomfort when they were withdrawn. The demon gritted his teeth. She was so close to him. He wanted badly to close the gap, to reach out and take hold of some uncovered part of her body and draw her to him. He was determined not to act inappropriately, however; it was part of his aesthetics as a butler. He may be a demon, but he still wore the form of a man, and Lydia was no longer a child, but a grown woman. He must not simply grab her without invitation. All the same, he had to roughly suppress his basic pain-sensing impulses with every moment that passed. Lydia was currently staring out the window toward the road. "I need to leave soon. The carriage-"

"Stay." Sebastian requested, leaning toward her. "I can put you up in a room far away from the guests. I can sleep beside you in cat form if you wish. No one will harm you overnight, master."

"I'm not worried about people harming me," she insisted, looking back from the window with a toss of her head. "I simply don't feel right staying in the manor again. I need to return home."

The demon sighed, twisting his shoulders futilely. "And where is home?" he asked in a quieter voice, half-raising his eyes to hers. "Where do you live nowadays?"

"With my father, of course."

"A rather vague statement…."

"Camden Street, London."

"In the borough of Camden Town?"

"That's the one, exactly. It's where my father settled down originally when he came here."

"Is that where you've been all this time?"

"Yes. Mostly."

The demon hissed, sucking in the air through his teeth as if baring them at the intervening years. "All this time….still in London." He bit his pale lip. "I looked for you every chance that I managed to obtain some temporary freedom of movement."

"I know. I mean, I knew you would." Lydia stared down at the cracked-tile floor, her tanned face coloring a little more. "I saw you once."

The demon's head shot up from its half-hung angle. "You did?"

"Yes. About a year and a half after I left this place. In Saint Pancras's Square. You were walking along behind Ciel; there was some sort of event. I was most surprised to see you two there, given that Camden Town isn't the most luxurious of neighborhoods from the aristocratic point of view. There were others there from the aristocracy also, and the crowd had formed a passage for them. I watched you walk away down into a melee of huge gala-tents."

"Where were you?" Sebastian demanded, racking his picture-sharp memory of this particular event, in which he had supervised Ciel's (reluctant) attendance of a carnival-themed charity gala in the city of London. He found it nigh impossible to believe that Lydia could have been so close, yet he had not sensed her presence.

"In the crowd. On the left side, I think. I was just walking by the square on my way home when I heard the commotion and decided to amuse myself a little. I never could have thought-" Her voice became more strained as she gazed down at the painted, patterned teacup now empty before her. "Well, I knew that if I tried diving into the bushes or something like that, you would detect the abnormal movement and see me. So I just held still and watched- like everyone else, and….you passed me by."

"_Damn_ you, master!" the demon burst out, spearing the table with his claws. "You should have come to us! You should have let me take you home that very evening!"

"It wasn't time yet, Sebastian!" Lydia insisted, strongly gripping his arm as she strove in vain to make him understand. "Everything would have been for nothing if I had returned back then. Anyway, _that man_ was still alive- oh, but don't look at me like that! As if I have no heart! I cried for weeks afterward, and I didn't cross through that square again for a whole year! I missed you two dearly. Come, you are the master of liars- look at my face and tell me if I'm speaking untruths."

Sebastian sighed angrily, his eyebrows knitting together like javelin spears. This girl, this girl and her stubborn ways! And what was more, this awful, keening, wretched fire inside his skin, which was clouding his mind as he tried to think of the best course to undo these ways. Deciding that she owed him this much at least, he reached behind her while simultaneously peeling off his glove, and cupped the back of her neck with his bare hand. By his own volition this time, he drew her head in close to his chest and lowered himself down into the seat next to her, petting and stroking her skin, not retracting his claws completely because he was still feeling rather malicious. He instantly felt the light begin to gravitate into him, silk-like and eager, as if it didn't know that he was a demon. However, humans could share this light, _shalom,_ naturally- it was only creatures like himself that needed to depend on artificial means of obtaining it. Lydia remained agreeably still, breathing lightly onto his chest, and Sebastian slipped his hand down her back a little and quietly kneaded the place in between her bones. He felt his frustrated discomfort begin to drain away slowly, grain by grain.

"Do you enjoy living on Camden Street?" he asked, honestly curious.

"Well enough." Lydia's pensive voice floated up to his ears. "I rather wish we lived in Kentish, for Camden is so much busier and louder. I get over to Kentish quite often, as it's very near to our house. I love the beautiful parks, the Churches, the medieval cemeteries, and the quiet atmosphere in general- I'm sure you know of them from an earlier time, hmmmm? Unfortunately, these things have made property there rather desirable among the middle classes. We can't afford housing in that district. But Camden is the next best thing, I should say, and I do enjoy its atmosphere in its own way."

"You could live here." Sebastian murmured, folding himself over her so that his lips were just above her ear. "It is very peaceful here, normally. There is an abundance of space. Beautiful parkland. You could go wherever you wanted."

She swatted his head away lightly. "That is putting the cart before the horse so far out- so far that- that the horse couldn't even _see _the cart. I already have a home."

"But master, you said that you planned to involve yourself here again."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I'm just going to waltz right on in and declare to the general population, "All right, I live here now!" Who does that? Half of the people in this manor have never met me before in their entire lives!" Lydia protested, gesturing awkwardly within the demon's strong hold. "Besides, there are practical reasons that I need to live in Camden."

"But don't you think-"

"And speaking of people in this manor, I need to ask you something." Lydia cut in suddenly, turning her head up to peer into his face. "When I was speaking with Ciel earlier, I was quite surprised to learn that my aunt Angelina does not stay here with him, but only visits occasionally."

"Yes, master. It was your grandfather's blatant desire that she keep to her own lodgings after the young master's father passed away. I am not entirely certain of the reasons behind this."

"He was a dominating bully who believed that he owned other people and could control their lives." Lydia stated with a sigh, as matter-of-factly as if she were reciting a science equation. "But that aside….I know that none of my older half-relatives would have made it a habit to stay at this manor after _that man_ died, since they all have their own estates and don't care tuppence about any but themselves. So who has been taking care of my brother?"

There was a pause, while the demon silently debated how upset his master would be if he told her the truth directly. When Lydia had been a child, she had naively assumed that the Phantomhive way of doing things was the correct way. Now, though, Sebastian would bet his pocketwatch that those warm, intelligent eyes which so inconveniently took apart his tricks could also take apart theirs. Seeing as he was unable to lie, he half-closed his eyes and answered shortly, "…I have, master."

Lydia gauged him stoically. She exuded the distinct air of a woman who has anticipated bad news, and has already conditioned herself in advance to not explode upon hearing it. "You have. Just you."

"Yes, master."

Her right arm gave an involuntary twitch, and she closed her eyes as well. She did not pull away from him, however. "Well, _bother _that."

"Master, I have worked very hard under him." Sebastian protested, feeling the need to justify himself. Lydia squeezed his shoulder gently.

"It's all right. I know you have. It's not really your fault, Sebastian, considering your condition….and the contract that binds you, after all….you did what you were able to do, and I thank you for that." Lydia lowered her eyes and laid her head against his chest. The demon curled himself more closely around her, wishing he could understand how to make her unhappiness vanish.

"I protected him. I gave him everything he wanted."

"I know." Her voice was muffled, distorted. "And you don't understand, Sebastian, but that is part of the problem."

**Thoughts? Questions? Clarifications? Rants? Click the review button! **

**Also, we shall find out more about Lydia's past soon, including the identity of her mysterious father. So tune in next time! And thank you for reading. :)**


	11. Camden Street

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**Cockney: The accent that the cabby (hired-carriage driver) uses in his speech is called cockney. It is historically specific to the east end of London. It is pretty much the opposite of Yorkshire; while Yorkshire is associated heavily with the country, cockney is almost completely exclusive to the city. However, the speakers of both accents would have been looked down upon by England's upper-class Brits as being lesser-educated and of lower social class. There is a long tradition in England of making snap judgments of people based on their particular regional accents. As George Bernard Shaw, an English emigrant and playwright, once put it; "It is impossible for an Englishman to open his mouth without making some other Englishman hate or despise him."**

**Cockney depends heavily on the glottal stop, the dropping of the t's and h's, and the accenting of pretty much everything. It is very interesting to listen to if you've never heard it before, and even more interesting to try to write. XD**

**Croup: A respiratory illness most commonly characterized by excessive coughing. In the time period of this story, it was common in children between six months and six years of age, and was usually not terribly serious. As a self-limiting disease, it often wore itself out within a few days. However, things could become serious if something went wrong with the body's natural healing process, so it was still a legitimate cause of concern.**

**This chapter may make some of you stare at the screen in utter confusion. I apologize in advance for any ocular strain that this may cause! XD**

The sound of horses' shod hooves striking against the cobblestone roads rang out brightly through the evening air as the hired carriage progressed forward, piece by piece. Lydia thought that it was interesting that she could still distinguish the particular gait of her carriage's horse, despite all the noise around her. Camden Street was busy even at this after-dinner hour, flocks of people moving to and fro upon the sidewalks and across the streets, weaving in and out of each other, trading space as though it were a commodity. And a commodity it surely was, in a city as large as London. Lydia had left the shabby curtains open, and she stared through the windowpane blearily, her head nodding every so often. A whirl of faces passed her by- some which she did not know, many which she did. This was her home neighborhood. Just a few more blocks to the corner, and her father would be waiting for her there.

There was a commotion up front very suddenly, and the carriage jerked to a halt. A loud voice was yelling out something, and the cabby-man was calling out a reply in an indignant tone. Lydia moved toward the door, planning to peep her head out at the situation, when it opened without warning and a body heaved itself into the carriage without so much as a by-your-leave. Lydia was nearly bowled over as the figure of Mrs. Farcett, wife of the local leather goods merchant, appeared jarringly within her little compartment-world. The woman towered over her for a moment, then took a seat and made herself as hard as a rock in it. A moment later, the small space was further invaded by the large body of the cabby-man, his face puffing and bewildered.

"I tell you, I tell you, I need a cab this instant!"

"I saiy here, liddy, do control yersel'! Can' ye see tha' I'm alrea'y drivin' a passingger a' t' momen'?" the cabby boomed out, wiping a hand over his balding head and looking around for his passenger as if wondering where she had gone. Lydia had pushed herself back into the other corner of the carriage to ensure that she would not be fallen upon by either of the bigger figures. "Now dis here li'le liddy wos here firs'- 'as been all t' way back from t' coun'rysiede, bliss 'er endurin' saoul- an' I in'ind t' bring 'er t' her desi'na'shun! I's t' rules o' t' '-rade, ma'm. What kin' o' drivin' man 'ood I be if'n I were t' '-urn an 'onest liddy ou' shor' jus' so's I cou' 'ake 'nother un' in! Shore!"

"My situation is an emergency, I insist! I must get to the southeast-side clinic!" the red-headed woman returned with equal volume, seeming quite uncowed by the chagrin of the blustering East-ender. She pressed herself into the seat as if he were going to try to tear her out of it, although Lydia certainly presumed him better than that. Mrs. Farcett was not a big woman, but she could make herself big in her dealings with folks who did not see eye-to-eye with her. It was for this reason that her children were kept in line and her husband was generally comfortable with leaving her to mind the store. However, it was also this quality which had made her known around the neighborhood for taking liberties with people- such as throwing herself into an unknown carriage which had already been hired out. Seeing that the cabby was at an absolute loss for what to do, and hearing the rush of the impeded traffic stalling and dodging around them, Lydia ventured timidly, "Mrs. Farcett….?"

The woman's sharp green eyes jumped right away to meet her own. "Lydia? Lydia, by my word! I didn't recognize you, child! What a world! You'd never believe what's been happening to me today, you simply-"

"It's all right." The brown-haired girl assured the cabby, who showed every sign of (justifiably) interrupting the intruder's torrent of words. "I know her, sir. You can carry on- it's just a few more blocks to where I need to be, and we're going the same way, sir. Just let me out at the corner by O'Hare's store, and we'll be rum."

The man seemed relieved, and paused to pull his jacket tighter around his chest. "If'n ye saiy 'tis so, li'l liddy, I shore ain' one t' coun'er ye. Bu' I needs a ha' fare from dis uvver liddy a'fore I goes."

Mrs. Farcett started, and fumbled around in her pocket. "Lydia, would you mind?" she whispered in a strained voice. "I only have enough with me to pay the clinic. There wasn't more in the house."

"Of course." The young girl replied, reaching into her own pocket and hoping she had enough. She held out shillings which would pay for exactly half of the older woman's fare- but before she could explain that she had no more, the side of the carriage was struck firmly by an irritated fist, and a reedy voice called, "What, now? Move this damned contraption! There's people a-waiting to get by!" The cabby grunted, seized the coins up in his thick fingers, and heaved himself outside, bursting out into the coming night just as vibrantly as he had burst into the sheltered compartment of the carriage. Clutching her gloved hand to her side, Lydia was able to sit up again. There was an exchange of men's voices outside, several heavy thumps which rattled the passengers, and then the carriage began to move once more. The young girl silently thanked the Lord that they had not been hit, given that they had made such a sudden and awkward stop. She had barely looked up again when Mrs. Farcett once more began her deluge of words.

"….been having such an awful time. Viola's baby, you know what's barely eight months old, I agreed to watch him for two days whilst she takes leisure to visit her brother…."

_I wonder what Mother would have thought of all this,_ Lydia pondered, nodding sympathetically at Mrs. Farcett as the weary carriage trundled along the road. _Hired carriages. Working-class dresses. The servant's entrance in the back. The kitchen. Visiting the manor as an unequal stranger. Hiding from the 'guests.' A place like….like Camden Street. People practically flinging themselves on top of me when I'm just trying to get home. Giving back the ring. _

"And here I am, coming down sick to my bones, but I didn't worry too much at first, for after all, Henry is a very easy baby, but then-"

_She would have been horrified if she could have lived to see me now._ Lydia concluded, staring out the window at the makeshift shops set up along the sidewalks, the modestly-clothed women and men hurrying along on after-work errands. She honestly was not surprised at this little misadventure of the day, for it was the sort of thing which might happen to anyone in Camden Town. Lydia had grown used to the press of humanity and the general chaos of this area of London over the past five years. Here, no one got out of her way as she approached, gave in to her will based on her last name, or respected her until she had earned it. Here, folks were generally disposed to think of themselves as equal. The majority of the population of this borough were too well-off to need to hire themselves out as servants, but not affluent enough to hire servants themselves. They lived together, closely packed and yet fiercely individual. The air was filled with human kindness and monetary practicality. It was Camden Town. It was its people.

_Perfectly horrified._ Lydia declared to herself, smoothing out her wrinkled lady's glove. _And yet I-_

"Croup! Croup, as I live and breathe! So then I said to myself-"

"Croup, ma'm? Henry?" Lydia interrupted, gazing intently at Mrs. Farcett, her full attention captured at last. The woman nodded intensely.

"Just started showing signs about two hours ago. Coughing and crying up a storm, poor thing. I kept watch to make sure, and then I said to myself, Jane, it's time to get help from the clinic. I know that some mothers prefer to wait it out a day or so, but I've seen women wait too long and lose their little 'uns. And Henry isn't even mine- what would I tell Viola? So I grabbed what I could and I'm on my way now, although I tell you, I feel like the death's come about me! Hopefully I can get a good dram for us both, and quick! My oldest daughter and her friend are minding Henry whilst I'm away."

Lydia stared into Mrs. Farcett's haggard face and red-rimmed eyes, and decided that she really wasn't quite the loud-mouthed nuisance that other women made her out to be. Her affinity to her duty was as strong as an ox, even though at the present time, she really did look quite ill. Lydia turned to the window; her corner was fast approaching. Not wanting to delay the woman on her way to the clinic, the younger girl leaned forward and directed; "Listen, ma'm- I've given the cabby all I have just now in money, but don't fret. When it's time for you to ride back home, you just tell him that you'll get the other half of the fare to him through Thoms Weatherstaff. He's got a very good reputation among the other cabbies, you'll see. That ought to do for him just fine. And when you do get home, if the baby's still trouble, send Eliza or someone over to knock on our door. My father and I will both be there."

The red-haired woman nodded, her strained face attempting to stretch into a smile. She gave an almighty cough and hid her mouth within her shawl, reaching out to squeeze Lydia's hand across the aisle. "Thank goodness it was you inside this box!" she declared with vigor. The next moment, the carriage had halted and Lydia was bidding her farewell and stepping out. She drew herself up to the driver's seat and thanked the man for his trouble.

"Ye'ar' shore 'nough a game liddy, I do saiy!" he responded with cheer, and then the driving whip was cracked and the horses were on their way toward the southeast-side clinic. Lydia took a breath as she watched them trot away, glad to be out once again in the fresh Spring air. What a day this had been! She peeled her boots off the curb and crossed the street to stand in front of O'Hare's, peering about the sidewalk with eager eyes. As she moved to look the other way, a friendly hand clapped her on the back, and she turned into the embrace of her father. He squeezed her, then held her out at arm's length and peered into her face, both hands on her shoulders.

"Has the day been all right?" the taller man inquired concernedly, brushing a strand of brownish-red hair back under his bowler hat. "You look at bit….frazzled."

"Ah. Well…." Lydia brought a hand up to her braids to check if they were slanted. The pair began to walk down the street to avoid stalling the shoppers behind them. "That's because just now…."

Fred Aberlaine frowned as Lydia related the story of Mrs. Farcett barging into her carriage. "She oughtn't to have done it so wantonly, even if it was an emergency." He declared, glancing about before leading the way across the street. "She could have gotten into trouble. Suppose you had been a less tolerant person- a person of means."

"Yes, but when has common sense ever stopped Mrs. Farcett from behaving wantonly before?" Lydia sighed. "I don't believe she's bad. She just has a one-track mind that's not attuned to complex thought. When she develops a goal, she doesn't let anything get in her way."

"You handled it well, at any rate. I'm just glad the carriage wasn't struck by passing traffic." The kind-faced man glanced back into the shadowed eyes of his daughter. The bridge of his nose crinkled in concern. "And speaking of people of means….how did today's visit go?"

Lydia bit her lip, which was quite sore from being bitten repeatedly in nervousness during her escapades of the day. "It went well enough at first, I suppose….but then….well….it kind of derailed. Certain people weren't exactly pleased with the way things were progressing, and decided to take it upon themselves to throw it off track."

"The demon?"

Lydia's surprised eyes jumped up to meet her father's knowing ones. "How did you figure that?"

"I met that demon on a few occasions when your mother was still alive, remember? I know what he's like." The red-haired man lowered his voice as the pair of them crossed another street. They were leaving the shopping district of Camden Town behind, climbing gradually into the slopes of the borough which held houses and sprawling rental rooms. "I know it's been a good many years since then, but demons don't change like humans do."

"You're right on that count. He hasn't changed at all." Lydia aligned herself with her father's steps, glancing up into his face as her own face reddened. "He pulled off my glove in order to stop me from finishing my conversation with my brother, the devious thing."

Fred Aberlaine looked momentarily shocked. "Your glove?" he demanded loudly, seizing her right hand and examining it as several passerby turned to stare. He remembered himself, and whispered, "He didn't tear your bandages, did he?"

"No, he didn't touch those." Lydia shook her head, disgruntled. "But poor Ciel! He sort of…panicked, I think. Probably because of the traumatic memories. He took one look at the bandages and started stammering, and then he practically ran out of the room. And I had been getting along all right with him before that! We were talking….but it wasn't just that, father. He's changed so much that I think you would hardly recognize him. He's not affectionate like he used to be."

"Maybe he's just nervous in front of you. After all, _you've_ changed as well." Aberlaine theorized sensibly. Lydia nodded, but deep down, she did not truly think that Ciel's frozen attitude was the result of mere nervousness. If she was to believe what Sebastian had told her, he had been this way for quite awhile.

"So what did you do after that? And what about the ring?"

The brown-haired girl glanced up from her small reverie. "The ring….well, I tried to give it back to Ciel, like I told you I would. But everything fell into distraction after the glove incident. After Ciel left, I went out the window and took refuge under my peach tree in the garden, where Sebastian found me. He had the ring at that point. He tried to persuade me to take it back, but I refused. I'll bet he still has it. He wouldn't give it over to Ciel without an explicit order."

"I see," intoned her father, nodding deeply. "So he still wanted _that,_ did he?"

"_Yes."_ Lydia whispered, rubbing her clear blue eye once again. "The contract. I think-" she looked up suddenly, her face clouding over. "I think he's in a lot of pain, father."

The man sighed, a dark, rumbling sound from within his chest. "Did he try to touch you again?"

"Yes. I let him."

"You know I don't approve of that."

"Just on my arm and my neck, daddy. There's nothing improper about that."

"But he's a _demon._ You could be in danger."

"I am his master. He cannot hurt me. Even if he could, he wouldn't want to- not now that I am becoming _this."_ Lydia declared, tapping her chest lightly. Fred Aberlaine smiled.

"You know I don't completely understand all this business about your soul." He told her, shrugging his shoulders freely in the twilight air. "I've seen that power, even though I can't describe it. I never expected anything like this for my daughter. I've always known you were special, but…."

"All parents think that their children are special." Lydia laughed, brushing her braids (they _were_ slanted,) out of her face. "And I'm not really special in regards to this, father. I am aware. That's all."

"You are special." He assured her, shading his eyes as the rooftop of their home came into view. "But not just because you're a _magna shalom,_ Lydia. I'm very proud of the way you've handled yourself these past few weeks." He gave her a gentle, fatherly glance. "So I assume you're going back to that manor, come hell or high water?"

"Yes," she replied, briefly wondering whether he had intended the question as a pun. He seemed to have no idea that he'd said something funny, however, so she plowed ahead. "Not tomorrow, though. It's Sunday. We'll be attending Church in the morning, and it would kill me to fit that long, bumpy carriage ride to and from the manor in afterward. On Tuesday my classes will be cancelled, so I'll go back then. Hopefully I'll be able to think of a plan to make things right beforehand."

"I'm sure you will. Ciel is your brother, after all. You two have a bond. I'm not sure about that demon, though. I don't like that creature." Aberlaine frowned as they ducked under the leaves of a hanging willow tree on the walk to their front stoop.

Lydia nodded knowingly, digging the key out of her hidden pocket. "But he and I have a bond as well," she murmured, not turning around to see her father huff in displeasure as they finally made it into their home. The red-haired man's mood seemed to lighten as he set his satchel down and stretched out in his own space, no longer borrowing it on the public sidewalks outside. Lydia inclined her nose toward the kitchen as the smell of chicken wafted past her.

"Aaaaah, that's right. I stopped by Mel's Eatery on my way back from the library today and bought some chicken for us. It's already cooked- been heating on the range while I've been out fetching you. Come have a piece, and we can pretend that I cooked it!" Aberlaine called, disappearing into the kitchen. Lydia snorted, shaking her head. The day would never come that saw her father cooking food successfully. Her childhood had been riddled with incidents of burned meat, cooking gloves caught on fire, soot explosions from the fireplace, and many, many cold dinners. Still, she had survived and had learned to cook herself, much to her father's great delight. She wondered how he was going to get by on the days when she was down at the manor from now on, and felt a little bit guilty. She hurried into the kitchen after him, lest he drop the chicken into the fireplace while trying to take it from the pan.

/

Sebastian was cleaning the kitchen with a sodden cloth, enveloped in the dim light streaming through the evening-lit windows, when he felt the pull of his master's will against his own. The manor was quiet, the other servants done with their chores for the day and leisurely preparing themselves for the arrival of sleep. Ciel was upstairs, summoning him through the contract. Normally the boy tended to just ring a bell or send word through one of the other servants when he required his butler. Sebastian did not sense any danger surrounding the young heir, and yet, for him to be calling for his demon in this manner…. The black-haired figure hunched down over the counter, dark locks falling in his eyes as he bent his head, staring frozenly at his red-eyed reflection in the shining countertop. He had hoped to be able to sleep as well tonight, at long last….

But he was going to be punished. He knew that he was going to be punished. Not just for today, but for yesterday and for that night in the study as well. Ciel's ire had been rapidly amassing over the past week, and now he was about to send every inch of it cutting into his demon. Claws curled out of his fingertips, and fangs swung low from his thin upper lip as Sebastian braced himself against the counter, making no move to answer the summons. More than any physical torture, what he abhorred the most was this forced acknowledgement of the boy's power over him- that with a single thought, Ciel could send the heaviness of dread coursing through his veins like molten lead. It would be no good to try to placate his young master, any more than it would be to try to intimidate him. That didn't mean that he wouldn't try though, Sebastian knew. He would try anything to get out of what he knew was coming….but his options were terribly limited. As the second, harsher summons resounded through his head, the demon glanced at the road outside in a kind of desperate fury. Why couldn't she have stayed? What more could he have done? He wanted her to be there so badly that he could practically see her sitting at the table in front of him once again- almost, but not quite. For the eternal curse of his kind was not to be circumvented through illusion or hallucination. That would have been too easy an escape.

The third summons ripped at the embedded needles in his skin, binding him and pulling him inextricably toward his master. He had no choice, no more power to resist. As the demon obediently prepared to appear at Ciel's side, he gripped the back of her chair _hard,_ picturing tanned skin with his hands upon it, blue eyes and quiet light. _Come back,_ he willed her, and then vanished from the room, smoke on an intangible wind.


	12. Pain

**Notes that pertain to this chapter:**

**Portrait-painting was a long, drawn-out process back in the day. It could require several sittings to get a portrait done. **

**I have finals coming up next week! Hopefully I'll still be able to find the time to update regularly, but if not...you know. Life. **

**That is all. Enjoy the chapter! :)**

He couldn't move. It was dark. It was dark. It was dark.

Sebastian lay quietly on his stomache upon the ground, not by his choice, but by his master's orders, as the darkness lapped around him. It tormented him, burning his eyes like intense light normally would have. It didn't matter whether they were open or closed, or which way he had turned his head when he had still been able to move it. The rancid pain was seeping into his pupils, boring into his head. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, his head, oh!…. He longed for the skull to just collapse already, to put him out of his misery, even though he was desperately aware that there was no chance of it happening. Of it happening….? Things swam before his mind in random order. He couldn't make it make sense. Ciel would have laughed. Hissing with exertion, the demon tried to force his pain through the contract to Ciel's mind, drifting back in anguish when he failed once again. The boy had shut him out. He needed to try again….he needed to try _harder_….but he couldn't focus, damnit! Every minute there was a new horror to contend with. The worm had long since forced its way in through his hip, and was now coiled throughout his body, tearing at him in so many places that he wouldn't have known where to struggle even if he had been able to move. Even so, he was obsessed with the need, straining to turn his head or lift his arms, maybe, maybe it would make him feel better. _I can't, I can't, I can't!_ The darkness was stabbing him. It was alive. The fire was alive. It was laughing in glorying praise as the demon screamed without a sound. The contract mark beat upon his hand like a bone-crushing drum.

He didn't know how long it had been.

He _hated _Ciel. On the floor of the cellar, wrapped up in pinching darkness, he lay there hating him as if the hatred would somehow save him from this situation. Uncontrollably he bounced back and fourth, shuddering in hatred, then in pain, hatred and pain mixing within him until it seemed almost unbelievable that such intense fury could not burn away the fetters that bound him. He could feel it upon his hands, his forehead, his mouth, that most terrible of instruments which caused him so much anguish. Deep inside his throat, the demon moaned. Damn that child! Damn him to the hell which he had damned his servant! He refused to accept his forced submission to that brat, even after all these years of obligatory servitude. He wanted his true master. He wanted Lydia. As soon as he was free again, he would fight until he got her. He would wear down the resistance that she had built up in her time away, and he would convince her to take the contract. After that, with both of their powers combined, they could overcome the obstacles which had impeded them in the past. She would be his little master again, willing and obliging and perfect, just as he had intended her to be from her infancy. It would take awhile, but the troublesome effects of the spirit could be overwritten in her being. Ciel Phantomhive would be nothing to him then. He would exorcise any foolish affection which she possessed for her _half-_brother from her heart. It wouldn't be that difficult. All he had to do was allow her to see how much the pale, cold boy-adult of the present had forsaken the brother whom she had once loved. Once she did, he and his real _master_ could leave, so far away that that brat would never touch him again. He would be safe. He would be able to enjoy the unexpected boon of his master's soul for as long as she existed on the mortal plane. And when she inevitably passed on to the Other, he would be free at long, long last. He imagined that he would wait a good long while before responding to a summons from another depraved human soul. He had had more than enough of being abused for at least a century.

Images, shredded pictures of these plans floated before his mind as the demon suffered, bound by the inescapable reality of what his world consisted of in the present time. He clung to these thoughts as a means of taking himself away from this cursed reality. He would win this game. He would claim his rare, priceless prize. He had to. There was no other way out for him, no other paths to consider. If he failed, he would be caught in this trap for as long as his young master might live, tormented by unfulfilled longing and humiliating subjugation. To get Lydia back….to reclaim her at long last, for she was rightfully his, _only_ his….he would show her that it was he whom she needed, not that useless half-brother who had caused her so much pain in the past. He would….once….he got free….

The demon growled, staring into the darkness as if willing it to reveal something to him. He was _so_ angry, and every moment his anger was growing due to his utter inability to express it. His limbs were completely stiff, and his voice was silenced. He was effectively leashed and muzzled, only able to lie still and wait for his master to come and free him. _Enjoy the power while it lasts, brat,_ the demon thought, eyes widening as the toothsome jaws of the worm dug even further into him. _Someday I'll get out from under you, like I did back then….someday I'll make you scream again, my _master,_ like you and your family have done to me…someday….!_

Nothing answered his raging thoughts. The flames continued to boil his spirit, and the darkness drilled and prodded with unrelenting glee, dancing around him manically. He could feel his senses beginning to ebb with torturing slowness. Somewhere above his head, he knew, Ciel was sleeping wanly in his magnificent four-poster bed, buried in a comforter which his butler had bought, dreaming of nothing. Free from pain and want. In the midnight of the cellar, the dark creature with red eyes pressed his forehead against the stone floor, waiting, waiting, _waiting_ as the thundering silence passed over him.

/

The cobalt-blue eye of the young Phantomhive heir stared down at his violin as he lanced his bow across the strings, playing a soulful melody for the ears of his tutor. Madame Rodkin was a plump, middle-aged woman from a respectable upper-class family and neighborhood. She had been recommended to him through Tanaka, and she had proved a satisfactory musical instructor. Ciel had been learning from her for two years now; but despite this, he did not know very much more about her. There was always that invisible barrier between the two of them in terms of personal interactions, the one which constantly seemed to shield him from most of the people in the world….or them from him, he thought with an annoyed twist of his neck. Either way, he was well aware that she considered both the manor and its master to be a fair bit odd. He understood this, and accepted it. Even so, today he was having difficulty keeping the stoical barrier raised. There was simply too much to think about, to hang his thoughts over like dirty storm clouds, and they were bubbling up within him. He played and played for Madame Rodkin's ear; but what he really wanted to do was to stop the music and declare to her, _My older sister has come back. Did you know that? She's been gone for five years. She looks like my mother now. Her arm is still maimed, even after all this time. She gave back the Phantomhive ring to this house, only now I don't know where it is. I don't know where she is either, because she left without saying goodbye. I don't know what to do._

The diminutive boy gritted his teeth, pouring the sonata of bold emotion and no words out of his violin strings. Despite what he was thinking, to divulge such information to a person whom he had never so much as held a casual conversation about the weather with before was out of the question. She couldn't know the truth, and no one else knew yet either, excepting his Aunt Angelina, who was currently gone. Meirin had tried to ask him earlier about the identity of the 'brown-haired girl,' but he had brushed her off. She didn't understand. She had not been present back then. The only being within this manor who was versed in the entirety of the sordid story was the one with whom Ciel had no desire to speak with at the present time. It was annoying to have to do without Sebastian in the day-to-day life of the manor, for there was honestly no one else even half as competent as he. Ciel's breakfast had been two hours late that morning, and burned. His clothes were all rumpled from Tanaka's good-natured but mostly unsuccessful attempts to dress him. The back hallway was a disaster area. Finnian had tracked dirt all over the floor back there, leaving Meirin to trip over a dirt clod and drop an armful of dishes, scattering broken glass from one end of the hall to the other. As if that weren't enough, Bard's new flamethrower has discharged at the wrong moment and subsequently scorched the wallpaper. Ciel had thus made the executive decision to cordon off the hallway indefinitely. It wasn't as if he'd really expected anything better. The servants had been asking him repeatedly when Sebastian would return, and he had told them firmly that the butler was away on personal leave, and would return 'soon.'

Even though the upkeep of the manor was completely hopeless without Sebastian, at the moment Ciel had no desire whatsoever to release his demon from his makeshift prison in the cellar. He simply did not want to see him, and he was so angry about his behavior that simply demanding that he stay in his room would not have sufficed. Sebastian had purposely defied him. He had disrespected him and forced him to show weakness in front of his sister. Ciel still cringed every time he thought of that incident in his study. He had to teach that imbecilic demon that just because Lydia had returned, that did not give him leave to do whatever he pleased. He was still bound to Ciel through the contract, and he _would_ obey him. It wasn't as if he were stealing Sebastian from his 'truly-intended' master, Ciel reasoned to himself as he shut his eyes in concentration. She had given the demon over to him when she had left. And hadn't she said just yesterday that she intended to honor this arrangement? Sebastian may not wish to belong to Ciel, but it was absurdly presumptuous of him to think that he had any choice in the matter. He was a demon; he had sold himself for the price of a soul. The descendents of that soul were perfectly within their rights to hold him and work him to his very last drop of energy. It was no less than he deserved.

For some utterly aggravating reason, Ciel's fingers faltered on the bow just then, and the music died out of the air. Madame Rodkin opened her eyes after a moment, stirred from the trance into which quality music always brought her. "That was very good," she commented with an appreciative smile, the lines around her mouth winking upward. "You are young, so I know it's difficult for you to exert enough stamina to see such a long piece through. Just keep practicing, and soon you'll begin to grow taller and stronger. You'll be amazed at what a difference it will make. But you've done very well today." Ciel murmured his thanks politely, and the generously proportioned woman curtsied and excused herself from the room, taking her coat from the chair. Ciel sat very still inside the music room after she left, fingers still clutching his bow to his side. The agreeable tint of the light on the instruments around him bounced back into his eyes, causing him to flinch softly. His head hurt. Perhaps he had been holding it in playing position for too long, Ciel mused as he wandered over to the window and stared out at the road. The anxiety that sat in the pit of his stomache like a rock seemed to expand without warning, and the flaxen-haired boy fought hard to compress it again. Where was Lydia now, and what state of mind was she in? He wished that he would have asked her for an address, a phone number, any sort of localizing information. He had meant to, until Sebastian had so rudely interrupted their conversation with his own agenda. Damn that demon! The boy thought, clenching his fists around the bow. At least he wasn't laughing about his trickery now, but even this fact did not make Ciel feel much better. He turned away from the window and left the study abruptly, wandering down the side stairways, meeting no one on his way due to the fact that the manor was rapidly emptying of guests. It turned out that locking Sebastian in the cellar had been exactly the key to ridding his home of those unwanted pests. Whereas before, the many 'acquaintances 'of his late grandfather had had the opportunity to take full advantage of the demon's ability to provide impeccable service, with him gone, the manor had turned into a veritable danger zone from which London's socialites were practically fleeing. The young Earl had issued formal goodbyes to a few with whom he was directly involved, but for the most part he was content to simply allow their 'guests' to flitter away, cleansing his manor in the process.

Ciel halted at the bottom on the grand staircase, angling his eyes upward to behold the large painting which hung there. So many people had commented on its quality this past week, obviously meaning to be tactful, and yet he could not suppress his inner desire to hide it from the world. A whimsically dressed young woman sat on a chair within the frame, smiling out into the world. Beside her, but not entirely behind, as if he could not abide being eclipsed, stood a man. Tall and handsome, with dark hair and serious eyes, he towered over the scene. Between the couple they shared a child, a little boy with flaxen hair and a wide, oblivious smile. He had been six years old. Looking up into the portrait, Ciel found it hard to believe that he had ever once been able to smile like that. The only reason that he had come across that smile, which the portrait-painter had then affixed in his memory, was because Lydia had been making funny faces at him from the corner to which she had been relegated by his father. He remembered that he had not been able to understand why his sister could not be in the picture with them, and had asked his father repeatedly, to the point where Vincent had threatened to banish him from the painting as well if he did not behave- a fate which seemed so terribly ignominious to Ciel that he had immediately fallen silent. Lydia's role in the entire portrait-painting process, which had taken a great many hours of posing on the subjects' behalves, had been to run in and out of the scene, bringing the posers whatever they required as the hours passed. Food, water, handkerchiefs. Ciel didn't recall much of that. He only remembered being extremely puzzled as to why his sister must be sent off to the side with the _demon,_ while he and his parents were serviced and made much of. He remembered that his mother had demanded that Sebastian stay put in the corner while all this was going on, and that (of course) the demon had obeyed with all manner of politeness. He had seemed perfectly happy to share his corner with the little brown-haired child, and this, Ciel thought, had made his mother more nervous yet. He'd watched as she had watched the blackened creature looming over Lydia with a look of satisfaction on his face, leaning in towards her, playing with her fingers, generally accustoming her to his touch. Ciel hadn't recognized those actions then, but of course he did now. And he hadn't thought about it back then, but now, looking up at the painting which had taken so long and meant so little, Ciel wondered how Lydia had felt as she had watched the painter at his work, preparing an image of a family in which she was absent. It was almost like a foreshadowing of the future which was being taught to her at that moment in time. The only sign that another child had been in the room was a box of handkerchiefs that she had left upon the mantle behind them, which the artist had inadvertently painted into the scene. That was all.

_If I could go back in time,_ Ciel thought, _I'd tell father, 'To hell with your damn picture.' I'd take Lydia and mother into town and we'd get our own portrait painted. I wouldn't let anyone say anything against it._ The young boy's eyes dropped down to the floorboards, and he sighed a sigh that seemed to shift his whole body. _But then, she probably wouldn't want to be in the picture now. If she could go back in time, I wonder if she'd say 'To hell with you all,' and just leave, before things got to be as bad as they did. She probably would. Anyone would in her place. _

"Young master?"

Ciel lifted his head out of his gloomy musings, turning around to see Meirin standing in the entrance to the front hallway, her head tilted to one side worriedly. He immediately assumed the worst. "Another accident, Meirin?"

The red-haired maid shook her head wildly, coming a few paces forward. "No, young master! Not yet! I mean….not to the best of my knowledge. I was just….well, you looked a little sad, so…."

"I am fine," he said immediately, turning to walk up the stairs. "Please have Bard arrange a fruit salad for my afternoon snack. Tell him that he is absolutely not to cook it is the slightest. Just help him to cut it up, and then bring it to me in my study."

"Yes, young master." Meirin curtsied, and watched the small boy mount the staircase with a wondering expression on her face. Ciel decided to himself that the first thing he would have Sebastian do upon his (indeterminate) release was to remove that awful picture from the wall. Anyway, the head of the Phantomhive house was now him. He did not need the eyes of ghosts upon him.

/

Hands were clutching at his head, but they were not his own. _No, no, no, no, no._ Sebastian reached out into the darkness. The hand that he wanted was hers, but it eluded him. _Come back._ The doorway wasn't there. The connection had never been established. He couldn't move. The fire was here, but it did not comfort him. Even with it running through his veins, under his skin, over his head, even so he was still alone. There was no salvation. Hands clutching at his head….

_Master…._

He remembered a time before, when he had been driven down here during the nights by his then-master, who did not want to see him. At that time, Lydia had come down to see him. She had been two years old then, toting a glowing candle and wearing a red velvet Christmas dress, for the holiday was almost upon them. _What do you want for Christmas?_ she had asked with an innocent smile. He had never been offered a Christmas gift before. Even so, he knew exactly what he wanted. _I want a name, master. Please give me a name._ She had taken the assignment very seriously. Over the next few days, with Tanaka to read them for her, she had pored over all the English name registries in the library, searching for a name which was 'right' for him. He had kept out of her way, as she had wanted it to be a surprise. It was interesting to see a two-year-old work on something with such childish dedication. Finally, on Christmas morning, she had brought him up out of the cellar and let him stay in the kitchen, warm and cheery from all the holiday baking which had been done within. She had disappeared for a few moments, and when she returned, she proudly presented him with a brand-new silver pocketwatch and chain. When the confused demon was encouraged to open it, he found a single word engraved within the timepiece, on the part which mirrored his eyes. _Sebastian. That's your name now. Do you like it? I do. I'm going to call you it every day. And it's set in silver here, see, so it's official. _

Sebastian remembered that on the first night of Lydia's life, he had held her and told her that they were the same, at least for that night; both nameless beings in the world. Now they were the same again. _Sebastian. _It meant 'venerable.' This amused him slightly. He wasn't exactly sure that Lydia understood the meaning of 'venerable,' and she was too young at that point to really comprehend the significance of his demonic nature. Even so, that was beside the way. He had a name. His name was Sebastian. The demon smiled in satisfaction as he stroked the tiny girl's hair, bowing his head in gratitude. _Master is good to me. _

The significance of this event was twofold. First of all, he was honestly tired of being ordered about by the epithet of _demon!_ all the time, wrenched from his masters' throats like a curse word. He wanted a name of his own. Secondly, and more significantly, Sebastian knew that once a human (and especially a female) had given a name to something, she was more likely to grow attached to it. This was exactly what he desired. Even before his little master was old enough to take the contract, he wanted to form a bond with her. He wanted to stake out a place in her heart, so that she would let him have her light, so that he wouldn't have to face his curse alone. _Your name is Sebastian._ The way that she had looked at him when she had said those words told him that he had succeeded. Lydia would be his.

_She will be mine,_ the demon thought in the present time, lying immobile on the floor like a broken doll. _I haven't lost her yet. She still calls me by my name. She must take the contract….and then we will be bonded like we were meant to be. All this…all of this….aaaaah! _

Hands were clutching at his head….

/

Ciel got not even the slightest bit of work done in his study that afternoon. The atmosphere was so tense. He kept seeing the flash of white bandages and red eyes out of the corner of his eye, even when his eye was closed and all should have been blackness. He couldn't remain safely detached. His head _hurt._

/

Lydia was taking the long route home from Church with her father, going down Kentish Street as the clouds rolled by overhead. Aberlaine's face was flush and merry as they meandered along, talking of the summertime festivals that had been held down here in the past, and dreaming of the one for this coming summer. It was going to be a grand one. The trees overhead were blossoming, and would soon make this scene one of breathtaking beauty. The brown-haired girl laughed as her father tried to reach up and pluck a flower, only to have it snatched out of his grasp by a sudden breeze. The whole of Kentish Street was open and flat, and the air flowed though like the cooling water along a riverbed. It flowed through her whole body. Both of her gloves were off, and her left fingers were plain and bare. Lydia closed her eyes and felt the wind.

**More hugs for Sebastian are in order...**

**Please review! :) Or else...I'll cry. **


	13. In Place of Hatred

**I'm back! :) No, I didn't die. I just got very busy with life. After final exams I had to focus on finding a summer job, and after I found a summer job, I had to focus on training for it, and then I went to Yellowstone for two weeks. It adds up. XD Anyway, I'm working full-time now, but I just bought the newest (American-released) Black Butler manga, so I got excited and decided that I had to write a new chapter. Anyway, we've left Sebastian hanging for long enough, really. I think he's mad at me. :P**

**Anyway, on with the new chapter!**

Lydia was surprised when Sebastian did not materialize to greet her as she exited the London-hired carriage on a rather overcast Tuesday afternoon. She could have used an arm to lean upon; her health as of late seemed to be going the way of the weather, darkening and dampening like storm clouds. Even so, Lydia had been firm with herself when deciding the she must head out today regardless. She didn't want for Ciel to get the wrong idea from a protracted absence, and imagine that she didn't want to see him anymore. That would be simply depressing.

In fact, there didn't seem to be much of anyone about the manor. All of the fancy carriages belonging to the guests were gone. Lydia made it around to the back of the manor on slightly wobbly legs and cracked open the door to the servants' entrance, peering cautiously inside. When nothing discouraging her entrance greeted her sight, the brown-haired girl slid back the door and quietly proceeded inside, treading softly toward the back hallway. They had ought to be aware that she was here, for Lydia had called Tanaka nearly four hours ago and relayed that she was coming. They were probably waiting for her in the entryway, but Lydia simply could not abide with using the front entrance, not after all this time. She would just circle around the manor….

The sound of crunching glass underfoot caused her to look down in puzzlement. Sure enough, there was an entire array of broken glass splayed out along the entrance to the back hallway. It was a good thing that she was wearing traveling boots, and not normal lady's shoes. As she tried to step daintily around the shards, Lydia raised her head and practically reeled backward in shock. Something had happened to the back hallway. The trail of broken glass continued across the entire carpet, so thick in some places that it looked like snow. Interspersed along with this was a different-colored material. Soil? It looked like it had been tracked in by heavy outdoor boots, similar to the kind she was wearing. What on earth had happened? The amount of dirt and glass here were not simply suggestive of a few careless housekeepers- more like a cataclysmic event, complete with…. Lydia raised her wide eyes up the wall and did a double take. Were those….burn marks? The deep, charred slashes had peeled away the wallpaper and split the wood, leaving it hanging in some places. What in the world could have happened so recently? She had just spoken with Tanaka not four hours ago, and everything had seemed fine! Had the manor been invaded? Was that why no one was around? And how could it have been, with Sebastian here? Lydia began to hurry through the dangerous maze of glass and burned wood, heading for the back row staircase. She needed to ascertain that the manor really was deserted before calling in outside help. Wherever Ciel and the rest were, she hoped that they were safe….

Once in the general hallways of the manor, Lydia became even more concerned. Every passage that she turned down was deserted, but every one contained a definite sign that something bad had occurred. Paintings had fallen down off the walls. Decorative vases were smashed. Cleaning supplies, cooking utensils, and gardening equipment had been left haphazardly all over the place, as if someone had just dropped them there and run away. Or perhaps they had been ransacked….? Hearing a clattering noise from one floor above her, Lydia hastily seized a fireplace poker from the side of the wall and crept up the stairway, hunching over, muffling her breathing with her hand. She decided that if she peered around the corner and saw someone she didn't know, she would run back out of the manor and call the police, then hide in the woods until they arrived. No burglars would find her out there.

"Aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!"

The sound of a woman wailing forced Lydia to roughly push these careful plans aside. She leaped out into the hallway and found no one before her, but she screaming continued. Narrowing her gaze onto the third door in the opposite wall, the brown haired girl ran to its side, drew a wide-eyed, dizzying breath, then threw it open and forced her way inside, brandishing the fireplace poker in front of her, determined to fight whatever heinous villain she should find within.

The person screaming was the red-haired, excitable maid from before. She was waving her arms and hopping around, a pile of broken glass at her feet. Her entire aproned front was stained with a dark brown liquid, which was steaming as she whirled around, trying to pull it away from her body. Half-hidden in the corner, with a small hand covering his face, was Ciel, looking tired and exasperated. There did not seem to be any villains to apprehend…. The maid whirled around once more, and screamed her loudest yet as she saw Lydia with the fire poker. Ciel lifted his head out of his hand, and jumped badly. Lydia simply stood there in the doorway, her mouth open and her faced flushed, beginning to feel like someone was playing a trick on her.

"What are you _doing?_" Lydia inquired in astonishment, just as the maid squeaked, "Excuse me, but what are you doing?" They all stared at each other a moment longer. Then Lydia dropped the fire poker to the floor and advanced a few steps into the room, taking careful inventory of the scene. "Am I to assume that- that everyone is quite….safe?"

"Lydia….?" Ciel intoned, coming forward slowly from behind a bedpost. The brown-haired girl could now see that they were inside a very grand bedroom, decorated with dark wallpaper and curtains, and crowned by a lavish four-poster bed whose head rested against the main wall. Everything was tidy and pristine, except for the heap of sodden glass now in the middle of the floor. For a moment her brother met her eyes, and then looked down at the floor once again. "Safe? Yes, we're all quite safe, why wouldn't we be? What has happened?"

"What d'you mean 'what's happened?' Have you been outside this room at all?" Lydia gestured wildly toward the doorway. "'What's happened' is what I want to know! I thought that maybe you'd been attacked by robbers and chased away, or something else! I was terribly frightened!"

The small boy looked utterly confused for a moment. As he gazed out the door, comprehension settled slowly across his features, and he laid his head back in his hand.

"Where on earth is Sebastian? There's no way he would ever allow this sort of thing to happen to the manor!"

"Wait, please…." Ciel murmured, holding up his hands to stop his sister. "….I should explain. Meirin, go and…." He looked like he had been about to say 'Go and get us some tea,' but then his eye settled upon the broken mess on the floor, and he turned away. "Go and….inform….Bard and Finnian that we have a guest, and they are to keep to the servants' quarters and _not touch anything._ Make sure to make it clear that they are _not to touch anything._"

The red-haired Meirin had been staring in astonishment at the blue-eyed stranger who had burst so boldly into the young master's bedroom, and spoken to him in such familiar terms. Upon these orders, however, she bowed her head and tripped back lightly out the door. "Y-yes, I will. Right away! Please be careful of the glass, young master!" With another wildly curious look in Lydia's direction, she stumbled out the door and swung it closed behind her.

"Please sit."

Lydia glanced over at Ciel, who had taken a seat upon his bed and was staring at his hands. She sat down carefully next to him, leaving a foot of obligatory space between them. Her head was still reeling, and she suddenly felt weaker without the rush of adrenaline to drive her forward. Her shoulders sagged limply. "Ciel, what has happened to the manor? It looks as if it's been pillaged!"

The boy frowned and drew his own shoulders together. "That is simply….the clumsiness of the servants. The new help that I hired after father's death….they mean well, but they are rather quite accident-prone." He put his hands down on either side of his torso and gripped the bed's edges tightly. "I apologize for everything you saw. If I had known you were coming, I would have definitely prepared a more presentable reception."

The bridge of Lydia's nose crinkled as she frowned in confusion. "Wait, how is it that you weren't aware I was coming? I spoke with Tanaka on the phone almost four hours ago, and he said that he would relay the message to you directly."

Ciel's visible eye widened a little as he continued to stare straight ahead. "Did you….? Ah, but of course you wouldn't know. Tanaka has become….rather forgetful, as they say, with the onset of his advancing years. He has been a good and faithful servant to our family, so I keep him around the manor and only give him light, simple tasks to perform. However, he is not one who should be trusted to relay messages anymore. I think he has been napping in the library all afternoon."

"Aaaaah." Lydia murmured, thinking that there was much that had changed around the manor. She wished that Ciel would look at her. He seemed to be holding his emotions back like a concrete dam, determined that there would be no repeats of Saturday's breach. Despite wanting to uphold his pride, she couldn't keep the gentle concern out of her voice as she continued. "Ciel, I have to ask- and please don't take this as though I'm questioning your decisions in the manor, because I know that such is none of my affair- but why did you hire these new people in the first place, if they mean well but cannot actually perform any useful services?"

The boy tilted his lip pensively. "….It seemed like the best course of action," he replied. "I don't really need any other competent servants, since I have Sebastian. However, I do need people who are honest but naïve, oblivious enough to work here for any length of time without becoming suspicious about the true nature of our butler. Besides, they are very loyal, and they all have their own….talents."

Lydia nodded, wondering what was going to happen once they got this out of the way. "Well, you've known them for much longer than I have, so I'll take your word for it, Ciel. However, I cannot ignore the manor. It isn't-"

"We have enough money here to replace anything that is broken. However, if there is anything which you feel particularly sentimentally attached to, you may have it." Ciel informed her flatly.

Lydia blinked. "I was going to say, it isn't safe for _you _to be living here among broken glass and unsteady furnishings. I'm going to have to do something about this mess, even if I have to clean it up myself. But on that note-" She turned back to Ciel, and was very surprised to see that the small boy was peering up at her from underneath his flaxen bangs, his face a mask of repression. "On that note….where is Sebastian? It seems nigh impossible that he would be all right with leaving the manor in this state. He has his aesthetics, after all."

Ciel raised a hand to the side of his head, massaging it gently as though it hurt. "Sebastian is….not here at the moment," he told her softly. These words struck an ominous, sudden chord within Lydia. They reminded her of something someone had said in the past. Her chest pulsed in and out. _I will not panic or be angry,_ she promised herself silently. Just how angry had Ciel been with the demon after what had happened on her last visit?

"Ciel. Where is Sebastian?"

Ciel sighed, pressing his hand harder into his head. "I had to punish him," he declared firmly, straightening his body up out of its bent-over position. "Ever since you returned, that demon has been acting up, forgetting his place, causing trouble, and disrespecting both of us. I had to remind him who his masters are."

"Oh no, Ciel. Oh no." The brown-haired girl's small hand gripped the bedcovers convulsively. "You didn't put him down in the cellar?"

"I don't understand why you're so concerned." Ciel countered, a hint of defensive aggression rising up in his voice. "It's not as if it's going to _kill_ him. He can't be killed, after all. He'll recover quickly after I release him. But he is a demon, and this is the only way to get through to h- where are you going?"

Lydia had stood up on shaky legs, and paused for a moment to get her bearings. "I'm going to bring him up out of the cellar and end his punishment. Stay here- I'll be right back."

"Now wait just a minute!" the young boy exclaimed indignantly, rising to his feet as well. "If you do that, you'll negate the whole purpose of the punishment! That demon is never going to learn to respect you properly as his master if you run around saving him all the time. He'll think you're weak-willed, and that he can use you. Therefore, it is in your best interests to let this carry on. I was only going to keep him down there for another day or so, anyway…."

He trailed off as the older girl shook her head rather alarmingly at his justifications. Once again, he had no idea what to do about having his authority so blatantly contradicted. If it had been anyone else, he would have cleared the offender out of his way swiftly and painfully, and then continued on his path. But this was his sister, and the young boy possessed too many guilty memories of everything that had been done in the past to 'clear' Lydia out of his way. It had succeeded, yes, but had it been in the best interests of anyone? And now she was back, standing undeniably in front of him like an iron roadblock, and he knew that she hated him, and he would _not _be weak, but even so…even so….

Ciel shook his flaxen head doggedly, as if trying to clear his ears of water. His forehead flamed upon this sudden movement, and he was genuinely appalled when he found himself forced to sit back down for dizziness- another weakness that he should not be revealing. Gathering up his resolve, he looked directly into his sister's eyes, tinted with concern, and protested evenly, "The Phantomhive residence is my domain. I have been head of it since my father died. I have always decided what goes on here, and you- you have only recently returned, and you just said that you didn't want to question my decisions in this manor, so…."

He trailed off as Lydia sat down beside him again, the fabric of her dress ruffling in a gentle, deliberate way. He had thought that he would hurt her with saying this, but upon seeing her face as she wore it now, he thought she almost seemed satisfied. She leaned forward slightly, and her hair swept out from behind her back to dangle all around her calm face. "No, Ciel," she told him softly. "You were right. The manor is yours, and the company is yours, and the fortune is yours, and the other servants are yours. They are yours because they have nothing to do with me. But Sebastian is mine as well as yours, and therefore, I cannot let you do this to him. And even more so…." Ciel had been so occupied with staring at her face that he did not notice at first when Lydia placed a hand against his aching temple. The tall young girl had a look in her eyes, crystallized and preserved like blue amber, that suddenly reminded him beautifully and terribly of his mother. "….I cannot let you do this to yourself, little brother."

"Do this….?" Ciel trailed off, and then flinched away from the warm hand with a jolt of realization. The hand's owner was already on her feet again.

"Stay here, and try to rest. I'm going to go retrieve Sebastian and bring him someplace where he can rest as well. We'll talk more extensively after I've done this."

Ciel had a million more objections, but he could not manage to force any out of his throat and onto his tongue before his sister had sidestepped the pile of glass and swept swiftly out the door in a wave of brown and green. He listened to her footsteps resounding away down the corridor, and then allowed his head to fall back into his hands with a low half-moan. First it was clumsy servants and a disobedient demon, and now this….! He would admit, only to himself, that he had been candidly miserable when he had thought that Lydia would not return. Now that she had, he was blatantly confused. What had she meant, and what was he doing to himself? What was he doing besides asserting his authority over his own property? And what was the meaning of that painfully familiar expression on her face?

The young heir growled to himself and stood back up, ignoring Lydia's mandate to rest as he strode to the doorway and peered out into the hall. He truly hated being confused. It felt like a loss of control, like a failure on his behalf. Lack of understanding was, he knew, a weakness which could be exploited by a predator such as the one that was currently locked in the cellar. Ciel's uncovered eye narrowed as he thought of Sebastian, and how the dark creature always looked at him with such resentful eyes. What was it about that stupid demon that Lydia thought was even worth trying to help? He was evil through and through. He would do the same as Ciel if he were the master in this contract. And anyway, it wasn't as if he wasn't already sentenced to an eternity of suffering and anguish. Why should his master feel at all disinclined to extend that eternity a little?

/

Lydia waited until her echoing footsteps were out of earshot of her brother, not wanting to alarm him unduly. Then she ran down the stairs and toward the cellar, creating with her heavy boots a cacophony of sound which rumbled under the wooden floorboards like approaching thunder, frightening even herself as she descended lower and lower down.

Lydia ran down the stairs at top speed, pausing only once to lean against the banister because she felt dizzy. She pushed herself off and continued, dashing through the messy servants' quarters to the backroom which would lead her to the cellar. The cellar was composed of many rooms, but if memory served her correctly, she thought she knew which one Sebastian would be in…. Seizing a candle and matchstick from the supply on the shelf, Lydia threw open the heavy hatch that had concealed the stairstep-ladder, and plunged into the darkness. At the bottom, she fumbled around for a moment with the matches, almost lighting her left-handed lady's glove on fire in her hurry. The brown-haired girl ignited the candle and discarded her gloves to the side impatiently, hurrying over to the vault-like door which began the series of cellar-rooms, fervently hoping that they hadn't installed locks since the last time she'd been down here. The door opened graciously to her touch, and Lydia proceeded to wind her way through the myriad of things which filled the room, casting her light around continuously in case she'd been mistaken about which room Sebastian was in. She kept this up for several more rooms until she reached one which was painted black and lacked any doorknob at all. Shoving it open and breathing in the strong scent of mildew, she cast her light around quickly, her candle forming crazy shadows on the walls and shelves. She mistook her quarry for a pile of black cloth the first time around, but then she stepped closer, recoiled in an involuntary spasm of shock, and rushed over to his side, laying her candle down upon the ground nearby. He didn't move when she shook his shoulder and called his name, but Lydia knew that he was not asleep or unconscious. Slowly, gently, she braced herself against him, tucking her bandaged arm over his chest and pulling him up into a kneeling position. His body lolled about helplessly and he immediately fell onto her, nearly knocking them down. Muttering distractedly to herself, Lydia managed to stand up behind him and hook her arms underneath his shoulderblades, which allowed her to begin the strenuous process of dragging him across the room toward the wall.

"Sebastian," she panted, "you can hear me, right? Everything's going to be all right. I'm going to help you. Here-" she propped him up against the wall, head still hanging down and concealing his face. Breathing hard, Lydia cupped a hand underneath his chin and lifted his head- and then dropped it again in another mini-spasm of shock. His eyes were the only things that were moving, and they were so huge and unnaturally red that they looked like something out of a horror story. Digging her hands into the ground, the young girl held still for several moments while she forcibly suppressed her basic flight instinct. Then she lifted his head again, murmuring, "It's all right now, calm down, I'm going to help you…." as softly as she possibly could. There was a black cloth tied over the lower half of his face, and she quickly set to work prying it off, thinking that she must be careful when choosing the exact moment to release the power that kept him from moving. Sebastian did not look as though he was entirely in his right mind at the moment. As Lydia had learned in the past, a creature with monstrous strength and in mortal pain could cause a great deal of damage to everything around himself, whether he consciously intended to or not. This thought was driven from her mind as the cloth fell away from the demon's face, and Lydia swallowed what felt like both a scream and a groan. Over his pale lips was fixed a purely black crucifix, sharp and shining as though it had been carved from obsidian. There was no natural means to hold it there, and though it left no marks on his skin, Lydia could sense that it was driving Sebastian mad with pain. She set about trying to pry it off him, muttering distractedly again. When her left hand failed to remove it, she shifted her body and switched to her right, bandages digging into the cross as she carefully tried to separate stone from skin. It was like pulling powerful magnets apart, but eventually the cross gave out and Lydia tumbled backward in surprise. Placing the dangerous artifact far away from the demon, Lydia crawled back over to him and looked into his eyes. "There, is that better? Are you okay now? I'm going to release you in a minute, just- here- oh, bother…."

She had tried to lift one of his hands, and discovered a crucifix embedded into the palm there as well. His other hand was similarly scarred. Someone would have had to deliberately hold his hands while they pressed the figures down into the flesh, would have had to watch his face contort and eyes widen as the burning set in…. _Ciel, how could you have done this?_ For the first time, Lydia fully realized that her brother's heart harbored a pool of true malice, deep-seated and dangerous, which almost made her feel afraid of him. Carefully, she lifted the crucifixes off Sebastian's hands and rubbed his palms with her unbandaged fingers, hoping the light from her skin would help to heal any damage that had been done. He was watching her with his impossibly red eyes.

Finally she sighed and lowered her arms, looking him in the face again. "I'm going to let you go now, Sebastian, but please be careful not to crush me, all right?" Placing both hands on his limp shoulders, the young girl mentally willed her power to override that of her little brother. _Set him free, set him free, set him free…._ She knew it had worked when she felt his body spasm harshly, jerking him back into mobility. The next moment, she felt the demon latch onto her dress with his claws, and thought for a moment that he really was going to injure her after all. Her heart gave a last minute leap within her chest. Sebastian raked his hands savagely down her back, and something was tearing, but she realized after a moment that it was not her skin. Long strips of fabric fluttered down around her like confetti, and his powerful arms were encircling her, squeezing her now-bare shoulders with his clawed hands as if she were a ledge he was hanging onto for dear life. Fortunately, Lydia still had her under-slip on to preserve the most important part of her modesty, but the back of her dress all the way down to her waist was completely gone. The cold air of the cellar pricked her skin, and Lydia found herself inadvertently pressing into the body of the taller demon for the sake of warmth. With any other man, a situation like this would have mortified her to the extreme, and she would have gained redress by slapping the teeth out of the mouth of anyone who dared to touch her like this. But for Sebastian, she knew, there was nothing sexual about it. This was about pure need. He was using her spirit as a giant painkiller, and her body as a foothold to help him crawl out of the abyss of blind pain to which he'd been condemned. He had always used her thus. Carefully, Lydia brought her hands up to his lips, and he buried his face down in her shoulder, holding her tighter to him, and she knew that he would not be letting go for awhile. Her candle guttered in the corner, and for a moment Lydia thought that it might go out. The cellar was completely silent. Sebastian made no sound, and he did not breathe. She knew that he did not need to, but even so it made the scene feel rather eerie, as if he wasn't entirely with her.

Just when Lydia could sense Sebastian's heavy body beginning to relax against her, there came a sudden, violent crashing from just outside the door. Still locked tightly in the demon's hold, Lydia managed to turn her head enough that she could see another light approaching from within the adjacent room. She had barely had time to register this before Ciel Phantomhive appeared in the doorway, holding a flaming torch and shoving another pile of clutter out of his way. His eyes fell upon the two of them, and in the flickering light of his torch, his face became sinister and dark. _"What are you_ _doing?_" he boomed out, the echoes of his voice resonating all around them like swarming bats. "Lech! Let go of her!"

Much to Lydia's surprise, Sebastian did let go, but he did not move back obediently. He was looking at Ciel in a way that she could honestly say she had only ever seen him look at his father before him. Right before her candle was extinguished in a burst of air, Lydia realized what was going to happen and pushed herself to her feet, screaming _"Stop!"_ but Sebastian was much faster. The candle went out, the torch was dropped, and Sebastian, who was turning dark like the shadows, lunged directly at Ciel. The boy only had time to take one small step back in surprise.


	14. Sowing

**Hi everyone! I'm back! Yes, I know I haven't posted in a few months...sorry...and I know I'm totally evil for having left off at a cliff-hanger. But I do have an excuse! I'm currently working on Part One of what I hope will be my first novel, so that's where all my writing energy has been going. I'm also taking a Fiction class at my college right now, so I've been writing short stories like crazy! It's really fun and interesting, but unfortunately it means that this story tends to get neglected, since in my mind original fiction fanfiction. But now I have a new chapter, and it's extra-long, so hopefully this will appease some people. Here you are! *presents new chapter***

**Oh, and I would be very gratified with reviews. :3**

The back of Ciel's booted heel thudded against the floor with grim finality as he stepped back through the doorway of the room in which he had imprisoned Sebastian. The demon was rearing up, becoming taller than any man, eyes spinning, body darkening into the shadows all around him. Before the light was dropped, Ciel glimpsed Lydia rise up and cry out, but she would be too late to stop him, he knew that. The young boy figured that it must be some sort of biological mandate among women, that they were so possessed with the instinct to protect their kin. What other reason could Lydia possibly have to feel such affinity for him, after everything? But this was going to be, and Ciel was immensely surprised by it all. It seemed that the demon was actually stupid enough to attempt what he was about to attempt. Feeling proud of his calmness, the young heir faced the darkness, felt the oncoming rush of air, and heard the demon scream.

The screams continued as the creature of darkness writhed and strained against the contract that kept him from harming his master. Ciel could see the glint of claws that swiped just inches from his face, from his contract eye that glowed beneath its eyepatch. He could imagine that the demon would like to gouge that eye right out and leave him half-blinded and bleeding. However, Ciel contented himself with the knowledge that _that creature_ was in far worse pain than he would ever experience. The contract could not be broken. Sebastian would not win this game, and Ciel planned to emphasize the foolishness of such rebellion as soon as he got the demon back under control.

A cracking sound above his head disturbed him from these thoughts. Ciel's head shot upward as dust began to fall from the ceiling- he could not see it, but he was forced to breathe it in inside the confined space. His eyes narrowed as he realized that Sebastian was trying to attack him indirectly. Demonic energy was radiating out of the darkness, and it was more that the cellar's grim structure could handle. Furious, Ciel opened his mouth to command Sebastian to desist, but deteriorated into a coughing fit as the dust in the air thickened. He couldn't breathe properly. His small body doubled over, hacking and searching for cleaner air closer to the ground, but he found nothing to ease his lungs. _Damn that evil demon!_ Just as Ciel's mind began to grow dizzy, a rather uncharacteristic yelp leaped out of the darkness in front of him, followed by intense scuffling and a drawn-out, grating noise. The boy lay still as these noises continued. Carefully, he reached for his fallen torch and box of matches, managing to scoot himself toward the wall where there was clearer air. A resounding crash thundered through the cellar, and as Ciel tried to catch his breath, he deftly re-lit his torch and held it up to illuminate the scene in front of him.

Lydia, her simple dress torn all down her back, had somehow managed to pin Sebastian by the throat to the back wall furthest from Ciel. Her bandaged right arm was crushing into his pale neck, and the demon seemed to be having genuine difficulty escaping this position. He was obviously loathe to actually injure her by swiping at her with his claws. As Sebastian struggled to extricate himself, Ciel stood up on shaky legs, gaping at the pair of them. What were they _doing? _Lydia was a human, and Sebastian was a demon. There should have been no contest between them in terms of strength. Sebastian finally managed to push Lydia away and wasted no time in lunging toward Ciel again- but he was abruptly jerked backward as Lydia latched into his arm, her waves of hair falling messily about her face as she swung him around and pinned him again. It was so absurd; it was like watching something out of a supernatural presentation where the viewer was asked to suspend disbelief and merely accept the course of events. From the look on his face, Sebastian was clearly just as confused as Ciel was. He continued trying to pry her off, while all the while his features were slowly relaxing into something more human than they had been previously. Lydia held her ground and held on. Despite his shock, the young heir could not help but notice that his sister was accomplishing all this with only one arm- the white-swathed, bandaged arm which had caused him so much guilt. What was the meaning of this? Ciel had assumed that that arm was crippled, damaged beyond repair. Why else would she wear a bandage over it all the time? Yet here she was using it to fend off a demon. What in hell….

Ciel's flurry of thoughts was interrupted yet again as a barrage of broken bricks rained down just a few feet from him. The roof of this room was giving out. Gathering the voice which had been lost deep inside him, Ciel shouted over to the sparring pair, "We need to get out! The roof has become unstable!"

Lydia glanced over at him, and then turned and whispered something into Sebastian's ear. The demon's body relaxed, albeit unwillingly, and the next moment both siblings found themselves swept out of the basement into the room leading to the stairs. Ciel staggered as Sebastian dropped him, clearly indicating that he would have very much preferred to leave him behind. Ciel spun around indignantly. "You mind yourself, you wretch! I can put you right back in there if I like!"

Sebastian drew himself up and hissed menacingly, slowly advancing upon his young master as if he intended to make another attempt to cause him harm. His eyes had not stopped spinning. Ciel reached for the part of his mind that allowed him to control Sebastian, and prepared to teach the demon his place. Before they could begin fighting, however, Sebastian's red eyes widened and he pushed past Ciel, causing the young heir to turn around in confusion.

Lydia had been so quiet when she had fallen against the wall and slid down to the floor. Neither of them had noticed her distress. Sebastian was tilting her head back and listening to her breathe. Her eyes were not open. Once again, Ciel had no idea what to do. He wanted to get out of this dark and compressing place. Sebastian lifted Lydia into his arms and began to climb the stairs without a word for Ciel, which angered the young boy inexplicably. The demon was allowed to hate him, but he was not allowed to ignore him. "Sebastian," Ciel declared, beginning to follow the demon up the stairs. "Take Lydia to a guest room and have Tanaka assess her. Since you have seen fit to ruin her dress, have Meirin outfit her in a new nightgown and tuck her into bed. You are to remain beside her and alert me if her condition becomes worse or if she refuses to wake up- but you are not to touch her at all until she awakens. Do you understand?"

The demon continued climbing the stairs, walking too quickly for Ciel to keep up. From deep within the cellar, the echoing crashes of more beleaguered stones falling to the floor could be heard. Ciel narrowed his eyes, but refused to let Sebastian know that his renitence was getting under his skin. "Sebastian, stop."

The black-clad figure ground to a halt on the top stairstep, becoming rigid as he waited for his young master to catch up. He refused to turn around and look at him.

"Well?" Ciel asked, tilting his head in expectation. He could feel his natural command returning to him now that he was out of the cellar and back in the Phantomhive manner, his own domain. "You know the answer that I want." His uncovered eye caught upon the wrinkled bandages that were tangled over Lydia's dangling arm, and he frowned. There really was no worth in the affections of women. They would carelessly expend themselves in the defense of others, and in the end would have no energy left for themselves. Her face looked so sad.

Sebastian was still for a long moment, fighting the inevitable. Ciel didn't know why he bothered. A creature who had lived as long as he ought to know the difference between things which could be changed and things which could not be. Finally he bowed his head and clutched the unconscious body of his master more closely to his chest. His eyes raked over her form as though speaking to her. "Yes, my Lord."

/

For a long time, Lydia lay still while the remnants of fading dreams tossed about in her dark-tressed head. She was aware that her head was lying against a pillow, and as she slowly returned to consciousness, a spicy aroma which she thought she recognized crept into the room. The room….? The cellar…. Bother! Pushing herself upright with a gasp, Lydia shook with dizziness as she clutched the edges of her very fine bedsheets to her chest. Immediately a pair of hands was upon her own, trying to pry the sheets from her fingers and push her back down onto the bed. She swatted at the owner of the hands with both of hers, and a faint growl caused her to look up into a pair of familiar red eyes. He was rubbing the side of his face grudgingly, and as she watched, he carefully seized her bandaged right arm and lowered it safely away from him, never taking his eyes off it. The events which had transpired in the cellar came clearly back to her then, and Lydia felt for the back of her dress only to realize that she was wearing a new one, pure white and ribboned. She glanced up at Sebastian quickly.

"Did you put the- did you- you've got a lot of-"

"I carried you upstairs, master." The demon murmured, still holding onto her arm. "Your brother gave me orders not to touch you again until you awoke. I called for the maid to outfit you in a nightgown."

"Oh. Well, then." Lydia answered, plucking at the sleeve of her nightgown with her free hand. It really was so fine that there was little difference between it and an evening dress. "Where is Ciel?"

"_He_ is downstairs, waiting for the arrival of Madame Red, who has recently returned from her business with your grandfather's affairs in London. He did not wish to give the impression that anything was wrong." The demon responded, narrowing his eyes in distaste. Then, leaning forward slightly, he traced a finger up and down her bandages and murmured lowly in her ear. "Master is exceptionally strong…."

Lydia tensed and stared out across the room.

"….but only in one limb of her body. I wonder why that would be?"

"You mind your own business." The girl returned sharply, pivoting so that her legs dangled down the side of the bed. Then, feeling guilty, she asked in a softer tone, "How are you doing?"

A heavy grimace settled upon Sebastian's pale features. "Better than I was previously faring."

"That isn't saying much. Come here." Lydia intoned, pulling the demon closer to her bed and stretching out her unbandaged arm. She laid it carefully against his face and he nuzzled it quietly, relief echoing throughout his strained body. They sat in silence for a moment.

"I should hit you instead, you know. That was an awfully stupid thing you tried to do down there. You couldn't have possibly thought that it would help you at all."

The demon growled softly again, bending his head down over Lydia. His eyes slid closed briefly. "I don't believe I did. I am aware that the contract prevents me from harming either of you. I merely wanted….to threaten him."

"You shouldn't have."

"He hurt me." Sebastian ground out remorselessly, raising his head to glare into Lydia's blue eyes as if they were the eyes of a certain one of her relations. "Neither he nor you can understand the agony I am forced to endure at your _command._"

"I won't let him do that to you again." Lydia murmured, stroking the side of his face with her thumb. Sebastian reached up and took her hand in both of his, squeezing it tightly as if she were a sponge being wrung of her light.

"Then stay here." He intoned, red eyes sharpening. "Or let me come away with you."

Lydia bit her tongue, distracted. "You want to come to Camden Street?" she asked in surprise, wryly imagining her father's reaction if she showed up on the doorstep with the demon in tow. There was no question of it, of course, but it still surprised her that Sebastian would suggest it.

"I would have come there with you four years ago if you had allowed me then." Sebastian answered fluidly, leaning down toward her. "What I want is to be with you, master, wherever you choose to be."

If the young girl had not known that Sebastian was a demon, his words would have seemed romantic and rather bold to her cultured mind. However, just as with the tearing of her dress, Lydia knew that he did not mean it in that way at all. But no matter how he meant it, she was aware that his request was an impossibility. Sebastian had to stay with Ciel. He could not come with her. "You can't." she told him quietly.

"Why not?"

"As I told you before, I have my own life-"

"Master, please listen. I am not out to interfere with your already established lifestyle." Sebastian insisted, circling his long fingers more tightly over her hand. "I am aware that you enjoy being independent. With Ciel, my duties include smoothly choreographing every aspect of his life to minimize discomfort and maximize profit. He is an aristocrat- he expects nothing less. However, if you desire to run your own household, I would have no quarrel with that. I simply want to _be_ with you. I want to be there to accomplish the things which your human nature prevents you from doing. I realize that in your eyes, life outside of this manor has been good to you, but still…." A gentle smiled played silkily about Sebastian's lips. "….We can always make it better, yes? Don't shake your head like that. You know that I can give you anything you want. Think about that, master. _Anything._ Think about what I can do for you, for your father, for anyone else whom you see fit to care about. What is it you want most?"

Lydia attempted to push the demon away. It was clear that he was recovering his powers- his eyes were glowing a quiet, enticing red, his voice was soft and persuasive, and his face bore the look which dragged men to their ruin and maidens to their doom. _Don't be fooled!_ She warned herself, raising her guard as firmly as she could. His insidious voice continued. "Tell me what you want, master. My only wish has always been to serve your desires. What would make you happy? A spacious house on Kentish Street, perhaps?" As he said it, Lydia could almost see it in her mind- someplace painted white, surrounded by shade trees and peaceful stillness, the polar opposite of noisy, rambunctious Camden Street. Could Sebastian really do that? Of course he could, she knew he could, but….

"Well, for one thing, I'd like my visits to this manor to stop turning into giant flaming fiascos which cause mental and physical injury to all involved." Lydia declared, suddenly wanting to remove herself from this vulnerable scene. The smoke from the candles beside her bed was filtering into her senses, clouding her mind. She propped herself up in bed, swinging her legs toward the side and trying to stand up. Sebastian moved immediately to stop her, and she instinctively blocked his hand with the outer side of her right arm. There was a very long, awkward pause while the two of them remained still, Sebastian holding onto Lydia's arm and sensing (she knew) the phenomenal strength underneath the bandages. He eventually sighed and replaced her arm on top of the bedsheets, rearranging his beautiful features into his typical polite expression.

"Master, please tell me about what happened in the past to cause _this._"

"I told you already." Lydia replied evasively, reaching behind her to smooth out her somewhat rumpled locks of hair. "It's because of what happened on the lake…."

"_That_ incident would provide a perfect explanation for the bandages on your arm- but _not_ for the superhuman strength of said arm. I am a demon, master. I have lived for a long time. Please give me some credit for intelligence." Sebastian turned his head downward with a sardonic lilt of his lips. "Ordinary humans do not possess the strength which would allow them to hold back one such as myself. Is your arm even maimed? You seem well able to use it without any handicap…."

"Whoever said I was an ordinary human? You know I'm not." The brown-haired girl shook her head lightly, pressing her bandaged hand into the fleshy area below her breasts, methodically feeling for fractures. If any of her ribs were broken from the fall she had taken in the cellar, she wanted to find out now, before she made a bid at standing up.

Sebastian frowned at her seriously. "Master, the concept of _magna shalom_ is supposed to refer exclusively to strength of the soul. I have never before heard of an occurrence where the effects bled over into the physical body of a human being. Therefore, how did- master!"

Having determined that none of her bones were damaged, Lydia heaved herself into a vertical position when she heard dull footsteps begin to ring out down the hall. Still holding onto her bare hand, Sebastian rose up with her, hovering protectively in case she collapsed against him. She stood on her own, however, and the demon fought the urge to shrink back as a miniature grey figure turned the door open and entered the room on the beat of his heels. Ciel glared insidiously at the tall, black-clad demon standing behind his sister, and said demon glared back with equal fierceness. Lydia held her ground between them like a buffer. Ciel's eyes were glacially cold. "Sebastian. Get out. You are to go downstairs immediately and begin repairing the damage to the cellar. I expect it to be done by morning."

"He needs to rest before he does anything." Lydia cut in, which was exactly what Sebastian had hoped she'd say. He desperately longed for sleep.

Ciel narrowed his eyes at the demon. "I need to speak with you downstairs, Lydia, and Madame Red is waiting as well. I do not want _that thing_ around us."

"Why don't we compromise?" Lydia asked calmly. "I'll put Sebastian out of the way while we're talking downstairs, so his presence won't bother you. After we finish, I'll go back upstairs and help him get some rest. That way everyone can be satisfied while being as healthy as possible."

Sebastian could tell that Ciel was not invested in any plan that did not involve causing severe suffering for his demon. Still, it was Lydia who had suggested it…. After a moment, the young heir turned toward the door and gave a diplomatic nod of his head. "Very well, then. Tell it to stay put in this room. I don't want to have to deal with any more ridiculous mischief from it." He gave Sebastian one more icy glare before sweeping back out of the room, leaving the door hanging open for Lydia to follow.

"So, you're 'it' now, are you?" Lydia questioned, gathering up her hair and twisting it over one shoulder in an attempt at neatness.

Sebastian turned his eyes toward the floor. "The young master is very angry with me."

"Don't worry about it." She declared firmly, indicating that he should sit down on the bed which she had just risen from. "Stay right here, and try not to think about the pain. I'll return soon, and then you can transform yourself into a cat and sleep beside me all night. Sleep will make you feel much better. Oh- and don't leave this room in the meantime."

"Hmmmmmm," Sebastian murmured, leaning his head toward her tiredly. For him, the prospect of sleep after all he had been through was like an offer of food to a starving man. "Is that an order, master?"

"I have no reason to think that you'd disobey me, Sebastian." The brown-haired girl answered, pushing on his shoulder before striding over to the door on more stable feet. "Lie down and try to focus on something else till I get back, all right?"

"Yes, master." The demon murmured, letting himself fall sideways onto the pillows on the bed. Lydia didn't really know what she was talking about in regards to pain, good as her intentions were. It was impossible for him to simply will himself to think of something else while he was being clawed at and burned from the inside out. Still, he had endured this for thousands upon thousands of years before he had met her- he could endure it for an hour more. The amazing thing, for him, was the utterly new anticipation that the pain _would _stop- not forever, but for a respite in which he could escape and bask in pure light. He had never had this hope before. Letting his hair fall messily around his face, Sebastian buried his face in the pillow and softly moaned as he waited for Lydia to return to him.

/

Halfway down the stairs, Ciel stopped walking so abruptly that Lydia almost ran over the much smaller boy. He turned toward her slightly so that half his face was still shadowed, and murmured, "I suppose I must thank you for your earlier actions on my behalf."

Lydia shrugged awkwardly, then halted, suddenly aware of how common the movement must seem to someone like him. "Sebastian couldn't have hurt you, anyway. I merely reacted to my protective instincts."

There was a slight pause, as Ciel seemed unsure of what to say in reply to this. Softly, Lydia stepped sideways so that she could look her brother directly in the face. "Why do you hate him?" she inquired, making sure that nothing in her tone could be construed as accusatory. Ciel clearly felt threatened regardless. His eyes became brighter and his whole upper body stiffened, like an angered cat. "You don't know what he's like," he snapped brusquely before turning around and continuing his pace downstairs. After a moment, Lydia followed him, newly puzzled. This was clearly something she needed to get to the bottom of- but not tonight. Everyone was too upset with each other. Still, his response made her wonder.

She didn't have time to wonder long, however, for as soon as she entered into the main receiving room, she found herself enveloped in an absolute wave of red. "Ah, Lydia! There you are!" cried her aunt, hugging her tightly and then holding her out at arm's length to have a better look at her. Her face suddenly became much softer, and she blinked her eyes rapidly. "Oh my goodness….you look so much like your mother in that white dress."

Thrown off, the brown-haired girl managed to nod as Ciel took a seat at the small, mahogany table already laid out with a sumptuous collection of meats and cheeses. He indicated for the two women to be seated as well, which was difficult for Lydia to do as her aunt continued to fuss over her, feeling her forehead for fever and her arms and ribs for fractures. She was reminded once again that Madame Red was a doctor.

"She's all right." Ciel piped up from the table. "I had her condition ascertained already." Once his female relatives were seated, he indicated politely to the tray of foods before him. "Please, help yourselves."

"How can we think of food at a time like this?" Madame Red exclaimed, taking off her hat and draping it over the back of her chair as she gestured wildly into thin air. "When Lydia has collapsed and the manor is in shambles and the funeral is in just two days?"

This last piece of news was new to Lydia, who started and gazed over at her distressed aunt with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Ciel did not seem concerned. "Everything is still in place. I've arranged for Lydia to stay here until she gets well. Sebastian shall have the manor back to its former state by the time the funeral date arrives. As for the funeral itself-"

"But- what? You've done what?" Lydia burst into the conversation with considerably less eloquence, gazing at her brother in unmasked alarm.

"I've already telephoned your father, as well as your university and your workplace."

"You've what? How did you- how do you even know where I work? And…."

"I asked your father for the information."

"Oh my. What-what did you say? Did you tell them….?"

"I did not go into detail regarding my specific relationship to you. However, the mention of my name was enough to procure you 'as much time as you may need' to recover."

"Holy Mary."

"Does this displease you?" Ciel asked, cocking his eyebrow.

Lydia felt that it would be rather insensitive to tell him that she had never before made mention of her past beyond her father's origins to anyone from either her university or her work. Ciel's call must have created a field day back in London. Now, as soon as she returned, she was going to be bombarded with intrusive questions. She felt like laying her head on the table in despair, but since that would require pressing her face into a plate of food, she merely bit the inside of her lip and managed to sputter out. "But I- I don't even feel sick."

"You are quite ill." Ciel informed her in a tone that dared her to contradict him. If Lydia hadn't been so worried about where she was going to hide when she went back to school, she would have found the whole situation quite funny. Ciel was so small and so proud, and the sight of him trying to give orders to his older sister when he didn't even come up to her shoulders would have made her father laugh aloud. Lydia would never actually laugh at him, though- she knew he would hate it. She remembered when she had used to be that small. It was a genetic trait on her mother's side, she thought. She wasn't sure exactly when her mother or Aunt Angelina had gone through their growth spurts. For her, she had only begun to grow taller after she had left the manor behind.

Madame Red was listening to the siblings' banter with a strange, almost nostalgic look in her eyes. Lydia turned toward her, but before she could ask her aunt if she was all right, the normal enthusiastic expression returned to the woman's face. "Well, if that's settled, I suppose the next order of business is the manor. Ciel, will Sebastian…."

"He will fix it promptly." The boy declared in that same flat tone of voice. "I do not intend to put up with this state of affairs much longer."

Madame Red nodded. In a much softer tone, she asked, "Is he trying you?"

"He always tries me." Ciel sighed, staring straight ahead in irritation. "I honestly do not see how you can possibly think well of him, Lydia."

Lydia thought that this was going a little far. However, the next moment they were interrupted by the nervous rattle of a tea cart being pushed through the open doorway. The familiar red-haired maid was poking her head into the room as though afraid to enter fully without permission. Lydia blushed a little at the sight of her- it was embarrassing to think that this almost-stranger had seen her body in an unclothed state. Still, Lydia supposed that she should just be grateful that this maid- Meirin, was it?- had not tried to unwrap her right arm's bandages. She couldn't even imagine what might have happened if she had.

"I shall have the entrance hall cleared out first, and cloaked in black tapestries…." Ciel was saying. He nodded at the maid and she advanced forward into the room, bearing hot tea and embroidered napkins on her cart.

That was another strange thing, Lydia thought suddenly as she took her cup of rose tea from pale, trembling hands. Ciel had seen everything that had transpired in the basement after he had re-lit his torch….and yet, thus far he had yet to ask her anything about her right arm or how she had been able to pull Sebastian away from him. Why hadn't he mentioned it? It had been the first thing Sebastian had wanted to know when she woke up. It wasn't something that could just be ignored or dismissed as chance- after all, of all people, Ciel ought to know just how strong a demon could be. The only deduction that Lydia could make was that he was avoiding the topic on purpose, which only made her more curious about his reasons. Something was surely afoot here.

Meirin retreated from the room with a respectful bow, and Lydia did her best to smile at her inquisitive face. Madame Red glanced after the maid, and in a low voice, murmured to Ciel, "You're going to have to tell the servants about your sister soon. How many times has she been here already? They need to know who she is."

Ciel heaved a sigh and lowered his head a little, as if the prospect of telling just one more person anything was too much for him to bear. "I'll tell them in the morning," he declared, causing Lydia's hand to give an involuntary sort of nervous spasm. She quickly pretended to be simply reaching for a piece of gourmet cheese. For a moment, the room was silent and Lydia could hear the wind whooshing by outside the darkened glass panes.

"As for the funeral," Madame Red spoke up thoughtfully, taking out a handkerchief and blotting at her lips, "I rather think that Lydia should attend."

Both Phantomhive siblings promptly choked on their food.

"What?" Ciel sputtered in outraged tones. "Have you gone mad?"

"Sooner or later, people will have to know that she has returned." The red-swathed lady insisted, peering over at Lydia's still, pale face. "It may as well be sooner. Otherwise, there will be rumors. Speculation. If people can't find out who the girl is that keeps returning to your manor, they will make up their own stories."

"They wouldn't dare! And if they do dare, I'll set Sebastian on them!" Ciel seethed, stiffening like an angry cat once again. "Anyway, what on earth could they possibly say?"

"How on earth could I possibly show up to the funeral of the man who hated me and tried to kill me?" Lydia cut in plaintively, feeling that she would be permanently mortified by the fruition of this ill-devised plan. Madame Red glanced casually between both siblings' indignant faces, and smiled.

"Ciel- I do believe that many people would assume that a member of your staff was conducting an unmarried affair- probably Sebastian, since he's so handsome." The red-haired lady quirked her lips upward a little, and continued. "This could be damaging to Lydia's reputation as well as the Phantomhive family's."

"But-"

"And Lydia," Madame Red turned slowly toward her niece. "We would have Sebastian with you, of course, to ensure that you do not fall into danger. But your attendance at the funeral would be the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to society that you are a lady of the finest class. Graceful and gracious, determinedly standing by your little brother, uncowed by danger and unruffled by past wrongs. Seeing that from you would turn many people in your favor, I believe."

Lydia could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Who was this person Madame Red was describing? "But Aunt Angelina- I'm not a lady. You should know that very well. I've been gone for too long and what's more, I am thoroughly and entirely common. I am! I live on an ordinary street and I go to school and I work to save for my future and- well, I'm not an aristocrat! Anyone would know that in a second. And besides, do you really think that the rest of the family is going to care whether I'm graceless and determined or uncowed or whatever-? They're not going to want me around."

"Opinions can change." Madame Red assured sagely, taking a sip from her rose-patterned tea cup.

"It's _mad._" Ciel insisted, bringing a hand up to his forehead in despair of his aunt.

They batted this topic around for the greater part of another hour. Nothing much was resolved, but they eventually wore themselves out and decided to continue in the morning. Madame Red was shown up to one of the many sumptuous guest rooms after thoroughly hugging her sister's children goodnight. Lydia thought about trying to hug Ciel, but remembered how stiff he had become in his aunt's embrace, and resigned herself to bidding him a formal goodnight at the base of the stairs. Halfway up, her eyes caught sight of the gigantic portrait framed on the wall, and she stared at it, lost in confusing memories, until she realized that Ciel was still watching her. She hurried away and managed to locate the random guest room in which she had left Sebastian without getting lost. The demon was still curled up on the bed, but he rose and bowed when he entered the room, offering her a pure white washcloth and slice of soap seemingly from nowhere. She smiled in amusement at the supernatural sleight of hand.

"Thanks, Sebastian. Go and help Ciel while I get ready for bed, then come back here….and bring some extra candles."

"I'm sure he can manage," the demon protested stiffly, trying to retreat into the shadows.

"I'm sure he can't." she noted in return, remembering the rumpled state of her brother's usually meticulous clothing and wondering if he even knew how to dress and undress himself. "Go on, it'll only take you a few minutes."

"Master, please reconsider. He will keep me there just to cause me pain." Sebastian insisted, blending himself further into the shadows, which troubled Lydia in her heart. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and remembered the pool of malice which lay deep within Ciel's own heart. She decided to not make the same mistake twice.

"All right, all right….for tonight, you don't have to go. But do make sure that Tanaka knows that Ciel needs to be attended to." Clearly relieved, Sebastian slipped out of the room while Lydia retreated to the attached bathroom and filled the sink with warm water. She traced the soap along her tired face in nonsense designs and tried not to beat her mind against the events of the day like a battering ram. That would only give her a headache. After drying her face off, she dipped her hand into the satchel she had brought from home and took out her hairbrush, stroking gracefully up and down like a waterfall's cascade. Growing more tired with every passing moment, Lydia dropped the brush onto the nightstand beside her bed and fell down into the covers, wrapping herself up in them, and then….she was half-asleep when the door slid open again and Sebastian ghosted back in, holding the pale outlines of a pair of red candles. She wondered at his choice in color. Unperturbed, the demon lit a candle and set it silently on her nightstand, then proceeded to circle the bed and lay down beside her on the other end. She could tell by the tilt of the mattress that he had not yet turned himself into a cat, and she wondered why not….he ought to know that she was not going to sleep with him while he was in his human form. That would just be scandalous.

"….Master?"

"Huh?" she grunted sleepily, rolling herself over to face him. The ebony black of Sebastian's hair and clothes formed a stark contrast with the white sheets, and an even starker dissonance with the silent red of his eyes. He did not blink as he stared at her.

"….Thank you for coming to my aid today. And the last time, as well. Your arrival was most timely."

"It wasn't very timely today." She answered honestly, clutching the pillow with her white, bandaged fingers. "You were down there for how long? Days? The suffering must have been horrible to bear."

"I have no choice but to bear it. My immortality becomes my curse." Sebastian murmured, prompting Lydia to voice a thought which she'd barely touched on in her younger years at the manor.

"….Is it that bad? If you could, to escape the pain….would you want to die?"

"Yes." The demon replied without hesitation. "I have lived for far longer than you can imagine. For one such as myself, death would not cut anything short. I have no lack of time, or of pain." He gazed calmly upon Lydia's surprised face. Outside the window, an owl swooped up from the manor grounds and disappeared into a tree. The young girl parted her lips around the idea of death. In the past it had been before her, in front of her, had curled right up against her and wrapped itself around her, but she could not imagine consciously wanting it, welcoming it. Even after the death of her dear mother, she had known that it was not yet time to follow her. She had had business in this world left to attend to. She had chosen death on that winter night on the lake, when she had received the power into her right arm, but she had ended up living anyway- and that wasn't really the same thing. There had been extenuating circumstances. Regardless, 'death' in the manner which Sebastian wished for was not a possibility. Souls and spirits were permanent beings. No one simply died and ceased to exist, not even fallen angels. Sebastian knew that.

The demon shifted slightly atop the bedsheets. "But let us not talk of situations which are impossible for myself and my kind. There are, after all, more desirable options which are quite within my reach, if master would only give her allowance…."

"_No,_ Sebastian. Not tonight. I've had a very stressful day. I've had an argument with my brother, I've literally had to fight you, I've fainted dead away, and I've just been informed that Ciel has come dangerously close to exposing my family connections back in London. What's more, Madame Red desires that I should attend her father's funeral, which is in two days. I am not going to cap it all off by arguing with you- when it's nearly midnight!- about your coming back to Camden Street with me. I understand why you want this, but for tonight, please do put a sock in it and let me sleep." Lydia ended her rant by pulling the embroidered quilt over her head, only to lower it again a moment later when she heard Sebastian's dark, deep-throated chuckle pad softly about the room. "What on earth is so funny?"

The demon's eyes were glowing red with amusement, a feral kind of interest that would have frightened her if she hadn't been so accustomed to it. He gave a mock bow, swaths of black hair falling about his flawless face. "Very well then, master, I shall 'put a sock in it,' as you say….though I wish to simply state that your acquired speaking patterns serve as an endless source of amusement to one as accustomed to the aristocracy as myself."

If Lydia had possessed the energy, she would have thrown a pillow at him, though she knew that there was no chance of actually hitting Sebastian unless he allowed himself to be hit. "You are an evil, ridiculous creature," she declared, bringing her left arm forward and laying it close to his dark-topped head. "Now go to sleep."

Sebastian obligingly laid his ungloved hand upon hers. Lydia closed her eyes, and a second later the hand was a paw. The nubile black cat pawed its way gently under the outer covers, and Lydia draped her arm over it and held it to her side. The purring rumbled against her skin as she and the cat fell asleep together in the dusk of the room lit by the slowly burning red candle. Before the cat immersed himself completely, he opened a red-orbed eye and gazed at the flame, noting with satisfaction that this was probably the first time in his existence that he had simply seen fire and not felt it. Then he was at rest.

**...And yes, the expression 'put a sock in it' really was originally a colloquial British phrase that was coined sometime around the early 20th century. I was very amused by this. XD**


	15. Things to do Before a Funeral

**Author's Note:**

**Muahaha! Fastest update I've ever done! I'm currently on bed rest right now because I managed to knock myself out the other day...so I was bored, and I thought, "What shall I do? New chapter? New story? What about BOTH?" Apparently, concussion equals writing productivity in my case. Who knew? XD **

**I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, especially the first part. It's so random. XD**

**Please do take heed of the note at the bottom. It's important. Thank you! :3**

Lydia awoke the next morning to find a tawny brown chicken at the foot of her bed.

For a moment she just stared at it. The window was open, white curtains billowing softly in the breeze. The dark teal walls hung over her, and the red candle on the nightstand had burned out. The indented little circle in the covers beside her body where Sebastian had spent the night was empty. Lydia leaned her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes, figuring that the chicken had been simply a figment of her imagination. When she opened her eyes again, however, it was definitely still there. It was walking around the edge of her bed slowly, right beside her feet. For one bizarre moment, Lydia found herself wondering if Sebastian had turned himself into a chicken, and why. She heaved herself upright to take a closer look.

The chicken had clearly not been expecting her to move. It didn't just squawk, it _screamed,_ spreading its wings open and rushing violently toward the rising human as if determined to knock her back down. Lydia screamed as well, yanking the blankets up to create a wall between herself and the mad creature with the sharp talons and beak. She rolled out of bed, knocking everything off of her nightstand, and fled toward the door with the flapping lump of feathers right behind her. She dove out into the hallway and slammed the door shut just as the chicken reached it, squawking indignantly. Chest heaving in shock, she leaned her back against the door and felt her face, pinching her bottom lip hard to ensure that she was not dreaming. She was not dreaming. She was in Phantomhive manor- she had spent the night here after- after _that_- and now there was a chicken in her room. She had just been effectively banished from her guest bedroom by a barnyard poultry animal.

"Master?"

Sebastian appeared out of nowhere from the hallway that led to the main staircase. Lydia stared at him as he rushed over and proceeded to satisfy himself that she was not injured, wondering half-dazedly how she ought to tell him about what had happened. Like her father, she was not especially versatile with conversation in the morning. "Sebastian, there's a chicken in my room."

The tall demon stared down at her for a long moment. It was a mark of his inhuman grace that his mouth did not fall open. Lydia wished that the chicken would start squawking again, so that he could hear it. She was surprised when Sebastian placed an elegantly gloved hand against her forehead, and wrapped his other arm securely around her shoulders. "Come and lie back down, master. You may not recall it clearly, but you hit your head quite hard against the stone yesterday when you collapsed in the cellar. You have not yet rested sufficiently…." While he was speaking, he reached out and turned the door handle, swinging the door wide open and whacking it right into the chicken, which had been waiting on the other side of the door. The creature screamed in fury and took to the air, reeling about ungraciously and coming to land back on the bed. It immediately hopped off and charged straight toward the pair of them. Sebastian pulled the door closed with demonic speed. After a moment, he looked back down at his master. "….I understand the situation. If you are feeling quite well, please go down to breakfast and enjoy whatever foods you wish. I have prepared a wide variety of dishes, since I do not doubt that your range of taste has broadened since you last lived here. I will deal with the chicken. After you have eaten, I will see that you are provided with new clothes and amenities. I apologize most sincerely for this severe disgrace."

"Sebastian," Lydia snorted, just beginning to move past her shock and comprehend the absolute hilarity of the situation, (what a tale she would have to tell her father!) "you don't need to speak as though I'm some distinguished guest whom you barely know. It's a chicken, not a bomb- although it did give me a wicked fright!" She laughed. "How did it get in, anyway? We're on the third floor, and the little terror can barely fly!"

"I do not know." Sebastian shook his head as the chicken began once again to cluck and squawk from behind the door. "I left the room several hours ago, while you were still asleep. Obviously there was no chicken then, or I would have dealt with it….but I did open the windows to air the room out. I believe….I know who is probably behind this," he concluded, frowning fiercely. "It wouldn't be the first time…."

"You're not going to kill the chicken, are you?" Lydia asked as the demon turned the door handle and prepared to dash into the room. He shook his head. Lydia could not help but notice that his body seemed much more at ease than it had been the previous day.

"No, master, but I am going to kill the gardener."

Lydia left Sebastian to do battle with the chicken as she made her way languidly down the hall toward the grand staircase. She felt somewhat awkward about appearing at breakfast for the first time in years while wearing a nightgown and socks; but she would rather not risk a trip past the killer chicken to retrieve her jacket and shoes. She had no idea what had happened to her tattered green dress, but she assumed that the damage was irreparable. Sebastian owed her a new green dress. She didn't own many dresses fine enough to go visiting in.

The aroma of a thick array of breakfast dishes washed over her senses as she opened the door to the private dining room. It was a smaller room, made for the use of the immediate family only when company was not present. Ciel was already there, sitting solemnly at the table and gazing in the direction of the door. Lydia blushed slightly as she slid inside, noting that the red-haired maid was standing behind the table, accompanied by the thatch-haired gardener and a taller, slightly older man with a spatula in his hand and pair of goggles around his forehead. The cook? "You didn't have to wait for me."

"Did Sebastian not give you your new clothes?" Ciel raised his eyebrow, noting her nightgown and loose hair.

Lydia prepared to sound crazy once again. "Well, you see….there was a chicken. In my room. It was there when I woke up. So we got a bit distracted. Sebastian is up there right now, getting rid of it. It was quite startling."

As Sebastian had predicted, the thatch-haired gardener suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth, exclaimed "Oh no!", and ran out of the room so quickly that he almost trampled Tanaka on his way in. Ciel stared after him with an expression of controlled alarm upon his face. "A chicken?"

"Yes. A brown, frightening one."

"I don't know why I'm even surprised anymore." Ciel sighed magnificently, burying his face in his small right hand. "Well, so long as you are unharmed, do sit down. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Lydia wanted to tell Ciel as well that he should stop speaking to her as if she was a stranger- but for some reason it wasn't as easy with Ciel as it was with Sebastian. She silently took her seat across the table from Ciel and allowed herself to scan the spread of truly amazing-looking breakfast dishes. Some of the foods she hadn't even seen since she had last lived at the manor. Sebastian had outdone himself. XXXXXXXX She hoped that the rest of this food was to be saved or given to the servants, for it was surely too much for two people alone to consume. Speaking of which….

"Where is Aunt Angelina?" she asked Ciel as he reached for a croissant from the basket near him. He pointed the croissant toward the road that lay outside the window.

"She took the carriage back to London. She needs to make more preparations for the funeral tomorrow. I am sorry to say that she hasn't given up the idea of you attending."

With a nasty flip of her stomache, Lydia recalled the conversation which they had had the night before. Suddenly all the food looked much less appealing, although she knew that it would be delicious no matter how nervous she was. She began slicing up some poached salmon on her plate, trying to appear as unperturbed as possible.

"Tell me something." Ciel said suddenly, laying his knife and fork back down beside his plate. "After the funeral is done, what are you going to do?"

Lydia pulled at her nightgown nervously, unprepared for the question. "….I had thought of continuing to visit here….if you would have no objection, that is. I know I cause a lot of trouble," she admitted sordidly, thinking that most of her existence here at Phantomhive manor had resulted in trouble.

Ciel frowned at his tea cup. "You don't cause trouble. That- _Sebastian_ causes trouble."

"He has his own needs." Lydia assessed, aware that they could say nothing more on the subject with the servants in the room. Ciel looked as though Sebastian and his needs could go to hell. "What are you going to do for the funeral tomorrow?"

"Aunt Angelina will be there all day, first at the wake-service, then at the funeral itself, and finally she will be hosting a gathering at her town-house in London in the evening, for family members only. I will be obligated to attend all three….although I intend to get out as soon as possible. If you do end up coming, which I still say is mad, Sebastian will accompany you. You can stay in my party, so I'll have someone to talk to whom I don't hate."

For some reason, Lydia was pleased to hear Ciel attest that he did not hate her, although she had never suspected that he had hated her in the first place. At the same time, it bothered her how casually he could talk about hating people, especially members of his own family. Before she could decide whether or not to comment on this, the door to the dining room flew open once again. The young gardener rushed back in, _covered_ in brown chicken feathers and followed closely on his heel by Sebastian, who was immaculate as always. As soon as he spotted her at the table, the blonde boy rushed over and skidded to a halt a few inches from her chair. "I'M SO SORRY about the chicken, Ciel's-older-sister! I really didn't mean to do it! I was in the yard this morning, and I was trying to help the chickens learn to fly because they're not very good, you see? But I don't always know my own strength, so when I threw Clucky- that's her name, Clucky- up in the air, she didn't come back down! And then I had to go inside and help Bard carry some things, so I forgot all about her! And then I guess she got into your room, and then, well-"

"That will do, Finnian," Sebastian announced, pulling the gardener back a few steps from where he had been flailing around in front of Lydia's chair. The young girl had started upright when she had heard Finnian call her 'Ciel's-older-sister.' She hadn't realized that Ciel had told the servants already, although that would explain why they were all staring at her, she thought. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of her nightgown.

"Can we still be friends?" Finnian asked anxiously, causing Lydia to giggle a little before she realized that he was in earnest.

"Yes, Finnian, I'm sure we'll be very good friends. And I don't particularly dislike chickens," she told him amiably, offering him her hand. Sebastian pulled him back further as he moved to take it. _"Just_ _wave at her,"_ the demon muttered in his ear, and Finnian obediently waved enthusiastically. Ciel cleared his throat from the opposite side of the table.

"With that out of the way, it seems that introductions of my other servants are in order. You know Tanaka and Sebastian, of course. This is Meirin, the maid-" the red-haired, bespectacled young woman curtseyed to Lydia, still looking curious, "-and this is Bard, the cook." The older blonde man had a gigantic grin and a scraggly chin. When he greeted her, the first thing that Lydia noticed was that he did so in an American accent.

"We're pleased to have you here, you bet! We didn't even know you were alive until about 20 minutes ago- imagine, our lil' master having a sister- but me, Finnian, and Meirin will serve and protect you no matter what, so don't you worry!"

Lydia could not help but notice that Ciel looked rather worried.

/

Sebastian had mended her dress. In fact, he had gone beyond mending it. He had washed it, cut away the ripped portions, and completely re-done the material so it now looked like an entirely different, fancier dress. He had sewn white ribbons to the front that ran in between the patches of green, filling them out, and he had hemmed the sleeves and the base He had attached white ribbons to the back as well, filling in the space which his claws had ripped away with a corset-like latticework of soft, silken ribbons that meshed together beautifully. Lydia stared at the dress which lay upon the bed of her now-chickenless guestroom while Sebastian ran a brush through her loose brown hair. The faint smell of candle wick filled the room, although the window was still open.

"Honestly, Sebastian….Ciel told me that the other servants were naiive, but I don't see how they have possibly not come to suspect that there's something inhuman about you."

"I maintain my cover well, at my master's orders." Sebastian murmured, beginning to tuck her hair up in a bun.

"Did you repair the cellar ceiling as well?"

"Yes, master."

"And you feel all right?" Lydia inquired, turning around to face him as he finished with her hair.

The demon's lips quirked upward into a fanged half-smile. "Much better, master."

"Good. Thank you for the dress," she carried on, wasting no time in striding to the bed and picking it up, admiring it from both sides before retreating behind the folding dressing-curtain in the corner. "And for the breakfast as well. It was delicious."

"Let me help you," the demon offered, approaching the curtain.

Lydia stuck her hand out and waved him away. "You stay where you're at! I'm not a little girl anymore."

"I assure you, in the context of our relationship, there is nothing improper-"

"No, it's not that. It's just that I know how to dress myself perfectly well. Don't mention this to Ciel," Lydia leaned her head and bare shoulders out from behind the fabric, "but I find it almost lucridious that he doesn't know how to dress himself or care for his body. He's almost thirteen years old!"

"He would be scandalized if you suggested that he learn," Sebastian pointed out, settling down on the edge of the gigantic bed. Lydia ducked back in and worked the dress up over her arms.

"I'm not going to suggest it. I'm not going to be one of those relatives who shows up and hasn't been staying for three days before they start _suggesting _things." Lydia remembered all too well the memorable visits of many Phantomhive relatives to this residence back when she had been a child. Now, in only a day, she might find herself seeing them again. What a strange thought. "But even so…."

There was a moment of silence as Lydia finished adjusting the dress on her thin body and stepped out from behind the curtain again. Sebastian rose, and both demon and human admired the demon's handiwork before the mirror. His gloved hand touched her shoulder gently. "In another vein….may I ask you a question, master?"

"Sure."

"When you sleep, do you dream?"

Surprise jumped across her tanned features. "Well, yes, I think that everyone does. Why, don't you?"

Sebastian shook his head. "I do not believe so. Or at least I have not dreamed since I first began to absorb the ability to sleep from your light. What do you dream about?"

"Well, you can't really control it," Lydia explained, wondering why Sebastian was so interested in dreams all of a sudden. "Your mind does it for you, I think. Mostly I dream about things and people that I know, which aren't normally connected in waking life, but my dream connects them for me. It's interesting. Sometimes I'll be in the middle of dreaming, and something will begin to wake me up, but if I'm not fully awake yet, I can go back under and finish my dream. Just last night I had a dream that somebody crashed their carriage into our house while my father and I were eating dinner. He wasn't pleased. And there was….something about dogs." Lydia trailed off, smiling as she saw Sebastian frown at the mention of the animal he hated most. "You can't always remember your dreams. That's another funny thing. When I saw the chicken on my bed this morning, I thought I was still dreaming."

"Do you dream every time you sleep?" They were still standing in front of the mirror, their graceful reflections staring back at them.

Lydia shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Like I said, I don't always remember. I suppose I could be having dreams every moment that I'm asleep, and just forgetting them when I wake up. I don't know what decides which dreams will make it into my conscious mind and which will not." She paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. "Why so interested?"

Sebastian stared blankly into the glass. "The concept of dreaming has intrigued me since I first began to sleep….but I do not understand whether I am capable of it. Consciously, I cannot create dreams. Only nightmares."

"You can create nightmares?" Lydia asked, turning around fully. She should have guessed that a demon would have this ability, but still, she was more than a bit surprised. He nodded.

"It is not difficult for one such as myself to infect the minds of humans with dark things."

"Oh," she turned back around. Red and blue eyes stared at each other in the reflecting glass.

"Do you ever have nightmares, master?" Sebastian tilted his head, his beautiful face smooth and inscrutable.

Lydia shook her head, her bun swaying back and fourth. "Not since I left this place so many years ago. Sebastian- do demons always give people nightmares?"

"Not always," he said. "In many cases, the minds of humans are so twisted and depraved that they need little help to haunt themselves with terrifying images that reflect their souls." He wrapped his black-clad arm securely around her shoulders. "Come, let us go back downstairs. You ought to re-familiarize yourself with the manor while I prepare the afternoon tea. What flavor would you like?"

"Apple-cinnamon, please."

The room lay cold and silent after they had gone, the lone mirror reflecting an empty white bed.

/

Ciel was reclining in an armchair inside the Phantomhive's private library when Lydia slipped out from behind a long row of shelves, leaning her head back to take in the enormity of the chandelier-topped room. She quickly tried to backpedal when she saw Ciel, clearly not wanting to disturb his reading, but the young boy called out to her and beckoned to the armchair beside him. In truth, he was anxious- anxious about the upcoming funeral, anxious about the strangeness of Lydia being in the manor, anxious about what memories the coming 'reunion' might bring up for her- and for himself- and reading simply was not enough of a distraction. She was wearing the dress that Sebastian had mended for her, and she looked content, if a little pale. He wondered if she was anxious as well. For a while, he pretended to return to his reading while he tried to think of something to say. There were _hundreds _of things to say- it was choosing one with no upsetting connotations which was the difficulty. He looked at her right arm, still covered up in a glove and sleeve even though it was now pointless to try to disguise what was underneath it. He decided that he needed to know at least one thing, upsetting connotations be damned. He closed his book and indicated toward her arm, lying languidly at her side. "It's not something demonic, is it?"

Lydia stared, and then looked down at her arm. "What, this?"

"Yes. That. I thought that it was just crippled, but what you did with it yesterday…." Ciel looked away determinedly. "It's not….it isn't some piece of _that creature_ that somehow attached itself to you when it pulled you under the ice on that night….is it?"

"No!" Lydia exclaimed, appearing shocked that Ciel had thought of this. "My goodness, no! How horrible! It's not entirely human, I'll grant you that, but it's nothing demonic. In fact, it's rather quite the opposite. It's a gift. I still don't completely understand it, but…." Her face took on a calm, warm expression as she began to spin into the memory. "When I came out across the ice that night-"

"That's all that I needed to know. I would prefer not to discuss it further." Ciel cut in sharply, hunching his shoulders down and staring at his lap. It disturbed him deeply that Lydia could speak of such an awful occurrence so easily, and with such a gentle, almost nostalgic look upon her face. Surprised out of her reverie, the older girl nodded briefly and turned to gaze out the window. It struck Ciel again, when the light touched her face, exactly how much she looked like his mother. He remembered hearing the screams of his mother on that night, how they had gone on and on and on until they were cracked and sounded like the shedding of scales, like the shaving of wood. Still she had continued to scream, although it had accomplished nothing. He wondered which one of them she had been screaming for.

Lydia turned back from the window, and her features dove into concern. His face must have showed his thoughts. "It's all right, Ciel," she told him softly. The young boy stiffened his back and narrowed his eyes. No, it was not all right, and it was his fault. How could she not be afraid every time she looked down at her bandaged arm and remembered what had happened to cause that disfigurement? How could she still try to comfort him even when she knew what _he_ had cost her? Everything….

Ciel suddenly wanted to leave the library, to leave the entire manor, but that would be running away, and he could not run away from this. He must be dutiful. Lydia had picked up a magazine and tactfully started to read while he collected himself. He never should have asked that damn question. Still, at least he now had _that_ sickening possibility banished from his mind. It had kept him awake for half the night.

For some reason, Ciel still felt the need to talk- but this time about something normal. He glanced over at his sister and asked another blunt question which had been bothering him. "Why on earth are you studying environmental biology?"

Lydia blinked and raised her head. "Did my father tell you that too?"

"Yes, and he seemed rather pleased with it. But I don't understand." Ciel shook his head, flaxen gray bangs falling over his covered eye. "I would have assumed that a subject in the field of social sciences would appeal to you. Literature, or Education. Perhaps even Philosophy. Pure science is not fitting for a woman- and it doesn't really seem to fit with your personality either, if I may say so."

"Aunt Angelina became a doctor, did she not?" Lydia remarked amiably, replacing her magazine on the coffee table.

"Yes, much to the consternation of our family, especially grandfather. She's a bloody aristocrat, a lady of the upper class. She does not need to work. She does enough in society as it is." Ciel stated firmly, echoing the many criticisms he had heard in his childhood.

"Perhaps work gives her purpose, especially such noble work. She is in the business of healing bodies and saving lives." Lydia pointed out gently. "She is as competent as any man. Furthermore, her unique position as a woman doctor gives her insight into her female patients' cases which her male colleagues do not have."

"It isn't fitting for a woman's nature that she should be exposed to such distressing things as diseases, blood, and the innards of the body." Ciel insisted, crossing his arms. "And what about you? Why environmental biology? That's barely even been established as a field yet- how do you know it won't deflate? What if you aren't able to find employment after graduation?"

Lydia had to smile at the adult-like cadence in her brother's voice. It sounded so odd coming from one with such a young face and tiny body. "I already have employment, although it will be only partial until I graduate. And as for why- environmental biology suits me. It holds my interest. Many people don't realize it, but the world is so much more beautiful and complex than our eyes alone can tell us. Everything is interconnected."

"You don't even live in the countryside!" Ciel protested. He was taken aback when Lydia nodded sagely.

"You're right- I live in the city, and that's why it's so important to study what I study. Environmental biology can apply to humans just as much as to plants and animals." She paused for a moment to notice his confused face. "The way that we live in the cities is not good. It's not clean, and it's damaging the world around us. People suffer when they're stacked up in tenements in the slums, three to a bed, dirty streets and buildings, diseases running rampant and not enough food to keep their bodies healthy. And the environment suffers when we take from it while thinking only of our own survival. So many things that the rich and powerful do in this day and age are not beneficial for the land or for the people. What I want-" she blushed a little, as if confessing a secret love- "is to bring together people who are in need and ecosystems which are in want of simple, honest caretakers. The poor are the ones who know how to live within their means. If they can be educated to make a living in a new environment- an environment where there will be space and food and a surplus of _life_- then they could eradicate their poverty and protect the land from being ill-used. We could create sustainable communities where people have enough." She smiled dreamily for a moment, and then laughed aloud. "Sorry- when I get on to talking about my studies, I can go on forever. But that's what I hope to be a part of."

Ciel had never heard of anything like this. If he was to be honest with himself, he thought that it sounded a bit mad, although he knew better than to say so. She and Madame Red were really two of a kind. However, something she had related had bothered him. "Is it very crowded where you live, Lydia?"

"Eh," she shrugged, "it's crowded enough, for sure. It's not a slum, though, so don't worry. It's a rather interesting middle-class neighborhood. I can bring you to visit my home sometime, if you'd like. We can go over to Kentish Street, too. You'd probably like Kentish better than Camden Town. Less people, more historic buildings."

Ciel wondered if she truly felt in her heart that the house on Camden Street was her home. She had not been born there. Even so, she had always been welcome there, with her own father. It was the place to which she had always retreated as a child when his father would sporadically decide to kick her out of the manor. She would vanish for weeks at a time. Somehow his mother had always managed to slip out after her, and then she would be gone too. He remembered waking up each morning in his little wooden bed in the nursery, sick with loneliness, hoping that today would be the day that Lydia and Mother would return. The manor had not felt like a good place to be without them.

"Ciel?" Lydia questioned, leaning forward.

He straightened himself up. "I think so," he told her.

**ATTENTION! For the first time in this story, I've decided to ask for reader input. :3 I want to introduce some new canon characters after the upcoming funeral, or possibly even during the funeral. However, I can't decide who should come in. Madame Red is already in here, as is Aberlaine and the Phantomhive servants...soooo...who else do we want? Unfortunately, I don't want to include Alois, Claude, or any other season two characters yet...if they come in, it will be later on. I'm talking about characters like Lizzie, Grell, Undertaker, Pluto, or pretty much anyone else that someone might want to suggest. Your comments will be very helpful! :D**


	16. The Way We Were Before

**Author's Note:**

**It has nothing whatsoever to do with this story, but I AM DONE WITH FINAL EXAMS! :D**

**This chapter involves a style of writing called floating consciousness, which I attach to Lydia. Things in _italics_ are her thoughts/memories, which she is directing toward her dead grandfather since it's his funeral. This chapter also involves Biblical references. This chapter took a LOT of research to write, and I found some awesome troves of information about the Victorian era which I'm going to use in the future for this story. Without further ado, here are some Notes that Pertain to this Chapter:**

**Mourning: Wearing 'mourning' meant wearing all black clothing. People who were not members of the family of the deceased would wear it only to the funeral, but the family would be expected by custom to wear mourning attire for a period of months following the death. How many months depended on the particular familial relationship of the mourner to the deceased. **

**Don't speak ill of the dead: Victorian superstitions stated that to speak ill of the dead would cause the dead to come back and haunt you, or would invite misfortune. In modern days, it's more like "don't speak ill of the dead because they're not here to defend themselves."**

**Seven deadly sins: For hundreds of years, the Christian world contained these popular perceptions of the seven sins that could damn a soul: gluttony, wrath, greed, sloth, pride, envy, and lust. Notice that these are the cause of sin, not the effect. Murder, theft, and rape aren't on the list because these are actions caused by the human vices of wrath, greed, and lust which live within the heart.**

**Peerage: The Phantomhive family, an Earldom, is in the middle rank of England's aristocratic peerage system. Dukes and Marquises are above them, while Viscounts and Barons are below them. The higher ranks are afforded more privileges and honors than the lower ranks.**

**Mourning veil: Women, especially those in the family of the deceased, traditionally wore sheer black 'weeping veils' over their faces, to spare them the disgrace of breaking down and crying in front of strangers at a funeral. Men were expected to be stoic. **

**Open casket: The casket of the deceased was almost never opened in an actual Church. Those who wanted to visit the body and pay their respects came beforehand to the wake. In the case of the Phantomhive family, the whole thing becomes a big damn aristocratic social occasion.**

**Last glance: Those who had known the deceased in life were supposed to pass before the casket during the wake and take one final look before the lid was closed. Then the casket would be transported to the Church in the back of a hearse.**

**Honey: An old cure for soothing asthma that outdates the Victorian era. Since Ciel has asthma, it's not that surprising that Lydia would be randomly carrying around a flask of honey in her pocket.**

***dies* Well, if you survived that barrage of information, then you definitely deserve to read the chapter now! XD I promise my other author's notes won't be this long. **

**One more note! I changed the rating on this story to Teen...because it needed to be done by now. XD**

_Dear Grandfather, when you were born, your doom was already set in motion. You were born and you were handed an evil spirit to use, to control, and to profit from. You were born the eldest in a family which held a supernatural contract that reached back for three generations and was directed to continue for three more. You were born into a family which valued wealth and prestige over their very immortal souls. You were taught to love the silver spoon you sucked on, to believe that you deserved it by virtue of the blood running through your veins. You learned by example the deeply entrenched values of patriarchy and business. You came into this world demanding, and you demanded all your life. It must have been enjoyable to have such a powerful creature at your elbow who could refuse you nothing, who literally had to lay down at your feet if you ordered him to. Sebastian. But then, you didn't have a name for him, did you, grandfather? You never bothered to give him one. You paid no attention to his shadowy figure except when you wanted something, and this was your biggest mistake, for you never saw what he was doing to you. With each order he obeyed, he fed your ego and boosted your pride, and with each expensive thing he brought you, he quietly led you to love the world a little more. You thought that you were the master, but you never saw the chain that he had strung directly into your heart. He was leading you exactly where he wanted you to go, that vengeful spirit. He watched you all your life with your ruin reflected in his red eyes, eyes which you never bothered to look into because you did not want to be troubled. You thought that you were the master! He led you like a pig to slaughter. _

Lydia stood before the mirror, arms stretched out wide as Sebastian tied the ribbon at the back of her waist and did up the buttons on her warm black dress. His white-gloved hands contrasted with the rest of his body and now with hers, making each movement of his fingers leap out in the mirror. She was deep in thought. She could not help but notice that Sebastian walked with an extra spring in his step as he went about the manor preparing for the two Phantomhive children to leave in the carriage. Madame Red had gotten her way after much stubborn wrangling, and Lydia was going to the funeral. The young girl had thought that she would feel more nervous about what would happen once she arrived, but now her thoughts were preoccupied by something entirely different. She glanced over at Sebastian as he neatly folded her jacket over his arm.

"Just tell me one thing, Sebastian. Is he in hell?"

The demon looked up, and smiled one of those smiles that seemed to pull at his beautiful features. "Naturally, master. He has been sealed inside the pit, and his screams will rise up from that place unheeded for all eternity." Still smiling, he sauntered around her shorter figure to stand in front of her. "You've won. I told you that you would."

Lydia responded with an annoyed twist of her head, taking a step back from the looming silhouette of a man. "I don't understand what you're talking about, you know. What have I won? I see nothing."

Narrowing his eyes playfully, as if she were being difficult on purpose and he was going to meet the challenge, Sebastian draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned down, murmuring lowly in her ear," Your enemies have fallen, master. Be _happy."_

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she murmured back, sighing. "I used to be happy when you'd tell me that they'd all pay for the things they had done to me. It was like a sweet bedtime story to me. I'd go to sleep dreaming about revenge, and smiling."

"You can smile now," Sebastian offered gracefully. "Come now, master. Try to remember who you were." Lydia thought about how odd the color black looked against her skin. The demon's eyes were boring into her own, and she could feel his energy fill the room, warping, twisting. Did it hurt him to do this? She wondered suddenly, remembering another time, another demon, awful pain….

She broke eye contact and gazed toward the door. "You did it, didn't you? You led him closer to hell every single day of his life."

"You could say that, master…." He told her calmly, nodding (no shame, demons had no shame,) "….but in the end, none go _there_ who do not choose it."

_But that's right, isn't it, Grandfather? You're probably down there cursing Sebastian even as your voice is consumed by the howling multitude of all those damned who are also cursing others whom they would prefer to blame for their damnation. But in the end, the choice was yours, the fault is yours alone. You were not damned from the start any more than I am. When my great-great-great grandfather made the contract that would enrich himself and his descendents, he sold his soul to the devil as payment. From that point on, he was lost. But he had no right to promise the souls of his descendents as well. Those were free things. You were never bound to hell in life, you foolish man. Even with your last breath, you could have reversed your fate. I tried to warn you. I tried. But you hated me so much that you would not listen, even though the only one who stood to lose was you. You lost forever. But I still don't feel like I've won. _

Sebastian had prepared Ciel earlier, and the young Earl was waiting for them at the bottom of the grand staircase. The servants lined up at the door to wish them well as they departed. Lydia could not help but wonder if it was all right to leave these three alone in the manor- Tanaka was attending the funeral as well, due to his long term of service with the Phantomhive family, and Sebastian was accompanying Lydia for safety's sake. The demon gave the three a very distinct look as he closed the door behind them.

Tanaka sat next to Lydia and promptly fell asleep. Sebastian drove the carriage out the front gate while Lydia and Ciel watched the misty morning scenery behind foggy glass panes. Ciel was bundled in the opposite corner by himself, looking tiny but still very regal. That seemed to be his gift, to appear ceaselessly aristocratic in any given situation. Lydia was glad that she was wearing leggings and a warm coat, although she could bet that she looked did not look nearly as composed as her brother. Still, the permanently attached mentality of the older sibling prompted Lydia to murmur "All right, Ciel?" into the space between them. The young heir blinked his eyes passively against the morning sunlight.

"I'm fine. I just want to get the old man into the ground so I can carry on with Funtom."

Lydia ran her hand stiffly over the cold wooden armrest. Once again, his cold-heartedness disturbed her. "You oughtn't to speak ill of the dead. One may think all one wants. You know, don't you, that he's…."

"Of course I know." Ciel replied briskly. "It's completely obvious that the arrogant bastard would be damned." He lowered his eyes and sighed, his voice becoming softer. "At least we have that consolation."

_I wonder what your damning sin was, Grandfather? There are seven deadly ones, or at least that's what I was taught in primary school. Greed- you wallowed in it. You died in a room filled with expensive things you had hoarded all your life, the sale of which could have fed thousands of starving mouths on the streets of London. You had no concern for the 'low-born,' as you called us. When you made donations to charities, it was only to uphold the company name in hopes that a good reputation would garner more business among the masses. You fattened your heart in the day of slaughter. Sloth- gracious yes- a sin which all you idle rich are guilty of. You never performed a day of actual labor in your life. You worked Sebastian day and night and didn't even give him gratitude in return. Justifiably speaking, he had every right to hate you. Lust? We lived in the same house for years, but you almost never spoke to me except to insult me. I never knew the inner workings of your heart. Still, the amount of control which you exercised over the women in your life- your own wife, your two daughters, the scullery maids and laundresses, me…. You viewed us more as possessions than as people, a state of mind which would have been conducive to lustful thoughts. Still, in the end, we all got away from you, like glass marbles scattering. Aunt Angelina became a doctor, moved out, supported herself. My mother managed to accomplish her one dear wish of starting a family with the man she loved, despite being forced into marriage with another man by your dominating hand. She never got to finish that life, but she died with us, not with you. I heard that your trophy wife put a blade to her throat some three years ago, so in a way I suppose that she eventually took her life into her own hands as well. And me, of course, I left the manor and never heard your cutting voice again. And you called us sinners, you filthy hypocrite! _

_Gluttony- watching you eat, drink, or indulge yourself in any way, was sickening. The pig-like look upon your face. It got worse as you got older, after you had gained enough power that you felt you no longer needed to concern yourself with appearance, with moderation. You insisted that you be served first and best at every meal. Self-satisfied pig! I wanted to slap the food right out of your hands! I didn't envy Sebastian- at least I didn't have to actually serve you your dishes. He used to entertain me by disrupting your meals at the head of the dining table. He couldn't seriously harm you, but he would make you choke on your food, spill your wine, and drop your utensils without even moving his hand, much to my secret glee. One time, after you'd slapped me across the face for coming downstairs late, Sebastian made the back leg of your chair snap off. I still remember the way your rotund belly wobbled through the air as you fell. You retired that night with indigestion. Sebastian took me upstairs and rubbed my stinging face with aloe, but I laughed out loud and he smiled that razor-sharp smile. We had our macabre little games. _

_Envy- it's remarkable to think about how little you had to be envious of. You had almost everything. Still, when you encountered a man with more, you leaped into envy. You put on an affable, polite front at social occasions, but you loathed the Marquises and the Dukes for having a higher rank in the peerage. At royal banquets you coveted the seats near the Queen, accessible only to the most esteemed nobles. You commanded Sebastian to procure you one of those seats, I remember. I don't know how, but he managed it. You were so swollen with victory that for weeks afterward you could talk of nothing else. Pride- you lived and breathed it, insufferable man. I could give a thousand and one examples of your disgusting self-love. The manor was built upon the foundation of your arrogance. _

The street which led to the funeral home was intensely crowded. Sebastian had to slow the carriage down to a crawl, and sometimes stop outright as pedestrians darted across the road, dressed in fancy funeral attire. Normally the wake would be held in the deceased's home, the coffin opened up in the living room. However, her grandfather had lived too far out in the country for this to be a practical arrangement for most of the attendees. Lydia had never been about this particular part of London before. They finally halted in a space reserved for their carriage beside a small-looking shop. A widened sign with the word 'Undertaker' engraved upon it was spread out across the upper floor. As Sebastian tied the horses to a hitching rail, Ciel reached into his coat and drew out a folded piece of black material. "Wear this," he instructed softly, glancing out the window. "All of the ladies in our family will be wearing them. I made sure that the veil is thicker than what is standard, but you'll still be able to see. Don't remove it. It would be best if the other attendees at the funeral are only able to catch a distorted glimpse of your face."

It was a pitch-black bonnet, with a mourning veil attached past the part that overshadowed the face. Lydia understood Ciel's reasoning, and immediately began to tuck it over her head, murmuring, "Thank you." By this point Tanaka had woken up, and the old servant steadily guided Lydia's brown bun of hair into the silken net sewn onto the back on the bonnet, and tied the attached ribbons under her chin. Ciel reached out and hesitantly drew the sheer black veil over her face, a curtain falling in between her and the regular light. This strangely tender human moment was interrupted as Sebastian knocked on the carriage door. Ciel stepped back and let Lydia go first. The air outside was a hive of murmurings. Lydia had no idea where to go amidst the mass of black-clad people, but Ciel seemed perfectly comfortable with the surroundings. Lydia trailed behind him, Sebastian following closely at her shoulder.

In an inverted way, it was actually very convenient to belong to the family of the person toward whom the mourning was directed, Lydia mused to herself. The crowd made a clear path for you wherever you walked. She had been to two funerals during these past few years, both men whom her father had known, and she still remembered the chaos of trying to move anywhere when one was just another mourner in the crowd. She would have definitely been in trouble this time if that had been the case- her vision in the daylight was good, but she could barely see anything through her veil inside the darkness of the funeral home. Sebastian gripped the back of her elbow and covertly steered her as they went around corners and down a long row of stairs. The wake room was underground? It seemed so…. They were just about to pass through a doorway when they were waylaid by….someone. Someone with a very scratchy, unusual voice. "My, my, little Earl Phantomhive….you're running a bit late, aren't you?"

"We are planning on leaving early as well, but you are not to mention it to anyone else." Ciel commanded the person sternly, and a cackling laugh rang out.

"Now would I do that, do you think? Especially when you've enlisted my services for this rather ostentatious funeral? You can't take it with you, but no one ever told that to the late Earl, now did they?" Another odd laugh. "Good to see you again, Mr. Butler. Your latest joke was simply divine." There was a pause, and Lydia sensed that the person was directly in front of her. "….And you I do not know."

She wondered how they could tell that they didn't know her with this thick veil lying over her face. "This is my older sister, Lydia. Lydia, this is the Undertaker." Ciel announced regally, and a moment later the veil was snatched away from her face by a very pale hand. Lydia found herself looking up at a tall figure dressed all in black, but with hair and skin so pale that it almost shone. The eyes were completely covered by a mop of albino bangs, making Lydia wonder how the person could see what they were doing. One of the eyes appeared to have _stitches_ encircling its fleshy border. Lydia tried not to gape while the person leaned in and scanned her face very closely. "Ah? A sister? Well, strange things happen every day, after all. People die, and new ones appear. Congratulations on your new sister, little Earl."

"She's hardly new," Ciel scoffed, and Lydia found herself inadvertently wondering whether to address the person as a man or a woman. If this was the Undertaker, she might assume that it was a man….after all, she had never heard of a female undertaker….but this person also appeared to be wearing a dress. The person grinned and reached out a hand to tug at Lydia's cheek. Their nails were long, black, and cold. The only other being she had ever known with black fingernails was Sebastian.

"Weeeellll, look at you. You're not nearly as tiny as your brother. You know, I've created a special coffin juuust for him, although he won't oblige me by stepping into it to measure it. Maybe I should create one for you too? You'll try it out, won't you?"

This time Lydia really did gape. Ciel clicked his teeth together in a frown. "That's really quite enough, Undertaker."

The strange person remained uncomfortably close to Lydia's face. "You'll be illegitimate, then, hmmm?"

"Undertaker!" Ciel hissed in outrage. Lydia glanced around to make sure no one else was listening.

"That's all right, child, that's all right. I don't judge. In fact, you should be glad. It means you were born into _love._" The Undertaker did not lose the maniacal grin as he/she finally stepped back a pace. Ciel opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. Lydia's alarm was growing. This was clearly not a normal person, and she could sense that they ought to get away from them before anything else was said. She glanced toward Sebastian for help in exiting properly, but the demon was standing back and smirking in a satisfied way. It was Tanaka who stepped between Lydia and the Undertaker and calmly stated that they needed to be heading into the wake now. The strange being did not seem perturbed. He/she stepped back, still grinning, and called out, "You know where to find me when you need me, little Phantomhives," before disappearing down a dark corridor in which Lydia could spot no exit light. She was still half-gaping as Sebastian took her shoulder and ushered her into the gathering room.

"Good heavens, who was that person?" Lydia asked Ciel, quickly hauling the veil back over her face before anyone could turn to look at her. He did not glance behind him as they strode toward the front of the room. It was much lighter within, and Lydia found that she did not have nearly as much trouble making her way. The room was full of people; all were dressed in black. No one spoke loudly, and the murmuring filled the air like a constant, weary hum. The men wore top hats with crepe ribbons around the bands, and many of the women had their faces similarly veiled. Their jewelry was all of jet, as was apparently tasteful at high-class funerals. It had always amazed Lydia that whole industries could be built off of the making of fashionable attire for _funerals._ It seemed like too much of a focus on the living and the temporal, and not enough on the dead and the eternal. Materialism didn't belong at funerals. Then again, her grandfather had been the most materialistic of all, so perhaps it suited him….

"Undertaker….I met him when my father died. He's always like that. He has his uses, though. He is a valuable source of information concerning London's more hidden affairs, so I keep him in my acquaintance." Ciel replied.

"So he is a man, then? Why is he wearing a dress? And what was all that talk about coffins and death and….what did he mean, 'Sebastian's latest joke?'"

"It's a rather long story," Ciel told her flatly, and then Lydia looked up and saw her grandfather's coffin. It was an impressive and opulent sight. It was made of rich brown wood and polished in black, darkening the wood's appearance. The moldings and metals handles on the casket were covered by a sheer purple cloth, tacked to the surface with gilt-headed nails. The body of the man lying still under the open lid looked just as pale as decrepit as he had during the last few minutes of his life. The clothes were very fine, yes, but the body was withered away. Lydia thought suddenly of his dead-fish tongue still lying inside his mouth, unable to curse her as it had done in life. She recoiled in mild horror. Ciel glanced backward, seeming to want to say something to her, but then he turned his head and strode on past the body without taking his final look. Aware that Sebastian was standing at her shoulder, Lydia stepped closer and looked again, determined not to let herself be repulsed by this empty shell. He was dead now, powerless, and even in life he had not possessed the power which he's though he had, for no man could possess his own soul. She looked down upon his dead form. Underneath the casket lay a blanket of black ostrich feathers, the rarest kind, and the inside was lined with velvet ticking, as if he'd thought he'd be able to feel it after his death. He really had spared no expense for his own parting. Sadly, Lydia blinked her clear blue eyes. None of it mattered one bit now that he was dead, now that he was in hell. Even more hungry mouths would go unfed in the streets of London in order to buy a diamond-studded pillow for a dead rich man to lay his head upon. The diamonds were brilliant, but they reflected nothing.

_What use is it to celebrate your life when it would have been better for you if you'd never been born?_

Could he see them now? Lydia wondered. From the depths of the pit, could he see or at least sense that his funeral was going on in the world of the living? How did he feel now about all his wasted wealth, wasted life? Did he know that she was at this moment standing over his body, alive and well? Quite forgetting that she was in a room crowded with other people, Lydia turned around to ask Sebastian, only to stop upon seeing the look on his face. His eyes were flaming red and devilish; a crooked half-smile hung about his pale lips. His teeth looked sharper. It was as if he were drinking in the scene before him, happy to the point of being in pain. For a moment, he looked quite mad. It was highly frightening- but at the same time there was something pathetic about it, something which she couldn't quite put her finger on. It bothered her. Her parting glance finished, she turned away and slipped into the crowd, following the gray peak of Tanaka's head which was visible over the melee. When she looked over her shoulder, Sebastian was following her silently and his face was normal once again.

Ciel was speaking to an older coupe when Lydia emerged from the crowd beside him. Indicating toward her with a regal sweep of his hand, the young heir declared, "And this is my older sister, Lydia." He might have said that she was his alien nanny from Mars for the reaction that he got. The couple, obviously aristocrats whom Lydia should have remembered but didn't, gaped at her in silence. For the first time, Lydia felt extremely glad for the veil over her face. She had known that she was going to have to be introduced to the general public at some point, but still, hearing those words off of Ciel's lips deeply shocked her. Everyone was going to know now. There would be no returning to her pretended existence as an ordinary girl. As nostalgia for her father overtook her, the couple eventually moved to shake her hand, both squinting to try to peer through the veil while trying to avoid seeming rude. Ciel frowned and ended the conversation. Moving on, Lydia was introduced to a number of new people, all of whom came up to Ciel in order to wish him condolence in his grief, and all of whom departed their company looked shocked, scandalized, and (sometimes) excited. Lydia barely had anything to say, even to the people she remembered. This had never been her natural environment. Sebastian kept a gentle hand against the back of her shoulderblade, although Lydia wasn't sure whether he was trying to support her or keep her from running away. She honestly just wanted to get back out to the carriage. Fortunately, Ciel seemed to share this desire. After he finished speaking with a young man who was apparently in the Queen's service and had come to represent her, he caught Lydia's eye and indicated that they should begin to sneak toward the exit. This was rather hard to do, as everyone seemed to want to approach the young Earl and fuss over him. She could see her brother tense up every time a gentleman reached for his hand or a lady tried to hug him. What's more, the guests were gradually gaining an idea of who Lydia was as well, and now _everyone_ was looking at her. The exit was coming no closer; it was like trying to swim to the shore against an undertow. Finally, sensing that her hour of patience was passing, Lydia leaned down and whispered in her brother's ear, "You've never learned to navigate crowds like a commoner, have you?"

"Of course not." Ciel huffed, looking displeased. "Why would I ever engage in such a thing?"

"You're too polite," she murmured back. "Take my arm, and hold on tight." She made a point of holding out her non-bandaged arm. Ciel hesitated for a long moment, then suddenly hooked his right arm through her left in a spurt of courage. "Stay close," she directed, and plunged into the crowd, leading. The trick was to make a space, not wait for one to open up ahead of her. People lurched forward to waylay them, and Lydia greeted them with a polite bob of her veiled head as she swept around them in a gust of black skirts and laces. She could feel Ciel gripping her arm like a child grips a kite string on a windy day. In no time at all, she was shunting them through the door- and just for good measure, she reached out and pulled it shut after them. Interestingly, the resounding _clang_ seemed to relieve her oncoming headache.

Ciel was panting as Lydia led him slowly up the stairs. He did not immediately disengage from her arm. "Well, that was rather effective," he declared, glancing around him. "Have we actually lost Sebastian?"

"I doubt it," she voiced, and sure enough, the demon's footsteps suddenly became audible on the staircase behind them.

"Sebastian, find out where our carriage is parked out front, I don't doubt that Undertaker has moved it into position for the funeral procession." Ciel commanded. The demon murmured quietly in assent, and a moment later his footsteps vanished into the dark air. They continued upward alone.

It was a relief for Lydia to be back in the privacy of the carriage, especially since Ciel was being markedly less short with her than he had been in the gathering room. He hadn't been that way when they'd arrived, Lydia mused as she pulled a bottle of freezing cold water out from under the seat. Ciel handed her an empty glass from the traveling compartment of the carriage, and she fetched a small flask of honey from inside her dress pocket, pouring a touch of the golden substance into the glass and then adding the water, swirling it around carefully. Honey was one of the only natural remedies that had ever been shown to effectively curtail Ciel's asthma attacks. She handed him the glass and popped open the carriage door to let Tanaka in as Ciel drank the concoction slowly. Perhaps it had something to do with what the strange, gray-haired coroner had said, she wondered, gazing out at the stone face of the funeral parlor. Undertaker's words certainly seemed to have gotten a reaction out of Ciel, at any rate. _Born into love_….it was true. While Lydia had not been granted a stable home life under any definition of the term, she had been born of a man and a woman who truly loved each other, and she, Lydia, was a living expression of that love. That was what her parents had always told her when she was young. They had made sure she knew it, in order to give her a sense of self-worth in a world which constantly devalued her based on her illegitimate birth. She still remembered the way her mother's pink lips had moved as she had said those words, _the ultimate expression of our love._ Sweeter words were surely inexpressible. Being of noble, legitimate origin, Ciel had naturally never been made to feel low because of his birth. As a child, he had enjoyed his social position even though he had not completely understood it. But perhaps it had begun to bother him as he grew older, after mother's death, during the time period in which Lydia had been gone. She didn't know, of course, but she could imagine that she would be greatly displeased to find out that she was the product of a loveless, arranged marriage which had brought happiness to neither party. Even though it was not his fault-

Lydia suddenly froze, jerking her head up to stare wide-eyed into nothingness. Could Ciel have possibly become aware of the true circumstances of his birth while she had been gone? Holy Mary. _Could_ he have gained _that_ knowledge? He definitely hadn't known before she'd left- her parents had always firmly mandated that she could never, ever mention it to him, with the attitude that there would be terrible consequences if she did. His own father couldn't have told him, because he hadn't known- at least, not to the best of Lydia's knowledge. Mother had gone to her grave with the secret. Therefore, the only person who could have told him- Lydia's wide blue eyes jumped to the front of the carriage. _Sebastian._ Was the demon capable of divulging the secret? Mother had probably ordered him to keep silent, but Lydia wasn't sure whether demons could still be bound to obey orders after the death of the order-giver. Given all the hatred that existed between her brother and Sebastian, Lydia was fairly certain that the demon would have told Ciel the truth if he was capable of doing it. Something that damaging would be a jewel in the clawed hands of Sebastian. She remembered the cruelly victorious look on the demon's face, a look which delighted in causing pain. Lydia wanted to kick open the carriage door, march out there, and demand to know if he had told Ciel- but in reality, she knew that she would have to be much more discreet. There was still the possibility that Ciel didn't know. She resolved to ask Sebastian privately with the first chance she found.

The Church in which the funeral was to be held was a masterwork of Gothic architecture, according to Ciel. After riding near the front of the mourning procession as it passed through the city (Lydia could not help but notice that they took several detours, allowing the huge procession to ride through some of the most distinct and urbane parts of London,) they pulled up outside the wrought-iron gates, and Lydia thought that Ciel had been right. The cathedral-like Church was made of very dark stone, and it spiraled up into the sky like the Tower of Babel. It was certainly like no Church which Lydia had ever been inside of. It didn't help its rather morbid appearance that it was ringed by gravestones, or that every its window was covered by black drapes and had black flags dangling down from the ledges. Once again, Ciel seemed unaffected while Lydia gaped.

In a way, Lydia supposed as they disembarked, it was rather fitting that they were holding the funeral of a damned man in such a foreboding building. This was probably the first time that many of the arriving Phantomhive family members had even been inside of a Church in a long time. Due to the excommunication of the family five generations ago, they were permitted to attend on special holidays, but were not allowed to become regular communicants. Most just stayed away from Church entirely, as they were far too rich and proud to go along with a deal that did not grant them full access to anything. Lydia was not sure if she was technically officially excommunicated as well, but it had never been an issue she had had to face. She thought of her own little white-paneled Church on Kentish Street, with one steeple and flowers on the altar and more people than pews, and eyed the Gothic Church mistrustfully. The carved doors were open and gaping. She could see people in mourning attire moving about the hall, but there was no light issuing fourth from inside, and all the mourners looked like spirits in a darkened room.

"Ciiiiiiieeeeeeellll!"

Lydia turned on her heel to catch a glimpse of a black-bodied, blonde-haired blur approaching them at top speed. She knew that voice, even though it had been almost five years since she had last heard it. The next moment, Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford collided with her brother in an impact that might have sent him flying if she had not been right behind them. The two fell into her, and for a moment everyone struggled to keep on their feet. "Elizabeth! Stop clinging!" Ciel hissed, trying to free himself despite the fact that his arms were pinned to his sides. "We're at a funeral, this is hardly dignified behavior-"

"Ciel, I didn't get to see you at the funeral parlor! I asked after you, and they said you'd already gone! I was sad, even though I hate for you to see me in this ugly black dress!" Elizabeth pouted, not releasing her grip on Ciel. She was as cute as ever, bouncing blonde curls framing her face and inquisitive green eyes. She had gained the promising figure of a budding woman, although her voice had not changed, and she did look rather strange in black. In the distance, Lydia glimpsed the Marquis and Marchioness de Midford in conversation with some people on the base of the Church's steps. She sighed, anticipating another awkward meeting ahead.

"Hello, Sebastian. Hello, Tanaka." Elizabeth greeted the servants with a curtsey before their young master could spit out another protest. Her overeager eyes then jumped to Lydia, and she stared at her for several moments before abruptly shaking her poor brother. "Well, aren't you going to introduce the lady in the veil to me? I'm sure her face is very cute!"

"You already know her," Ciel declared, finally managing to pry her fingers off his arm with great difficulty. "It's Lydia. She's come back."

"Hello, Elizabeth," Lydia added helpfully, stepping toward the young girl as several pedestrians slipped past them.

She had expected the explosion, but it was delayed. Elizabeth's eyes grew very wide, and she took a small, slow step toward Lydia. "That voice…." she whispered in shock. The next moment, Lydia found her veil pushed back over her bonnet again, and the younger girl's face was inches from her own. "LYDIA!" Elizabeth's cry was like the sudden swooping of a bird in the air, and she took a step back for a moment longer to stare before leaping into the brunette's arms. "Lydia, Lydia, Lydia! I was so worried that you were dead!"

"That I was dead? Why would I be dead?" Lydia asked, distracted from her momentary happiness. Elizabeth turned her angelic face upward with tear-filled eyes.

"You didn't come back for such a long time! Nobody heard anything from you….anything could have happened! We all remember how prone you were to having accidents when you lived at the manor! You almost died _a lot_…."

Behind Elizabeth's back, Lydia watched as Ciel's equally pristine face hardened and darkened. Sebastian stepped toward her, looking at her intensely for the first time since they had left the manor. She swallowed the grimness in her throat, and knew that they remembered as well. "Ummmm….yes…."

"But now you're back, it's just wonderful!" Elizabeth gushed, leaping into her arms again. As Lydia embraced her with a small half-smile, she glanced up at the darkened Church and noticed that the doors were closing.

It was at that moment that a sharp _crack!_ rang out through the air like the breaking of a stone against the ground. Blood exploded from Sebastian's head and open mouth, his beautiful features becoming blank with shock an instant before he collapsed to the ground, facedown, unmoving.

**Another cliffhanger! O.O I didn't even plan to do that this time, it just sort of happened...**

**Well, thank you all again for reading my story! Until next time! :3**


	17. Trouble

**Hello everyone! Here is another chapter! I hope everyone who celebrates it had a Merry Christmas, and everyone else had fun too with whatever holiday (or lack thereof) that they participate in! :) Christmas is my favorite holiday, so I got distracted and forgot to post this chapter when I had planned to. *bows***

**Notes that pertain to this chapter: **

**Aristocratic women generally didn't have the rights to their own property around this time period, but a woman wealthy enough to be married to a member of the English peerage would have inherited plenty of wealth from her own family. **

**Black ribbon: Victorian England was very superstitious about death. One of their superstitions dictated that if there had been several deaths within a family, those still living should tie a black ribbon to every living thing that entered the house, even animals, to prevent death from spreading further. At this point, Ciel's entire immediate family except for Lydia has perished, so it's a concern. **

**"I'm not a dowager.": When Lydia says this, she means "There's no need to address me so formally."**

**As a gift for my readers, I wrote a flashback story that revolves around little Lydia and Sebastian. It doesn't actually take place at Christmas, but it's still pretty cute! :3 It should be posted sometime tomorrow, as I want to edit it and make it perfect. **

**Reviews will be appreciated as Christmas gifts! They will make me dance will happiness! :D**

**Lastly, I'd like to thank Starbit, whose input helped me to write the last chapter. :)**

It was like a nightmare had unfolded out of thin air. Lydia screamed Sebastian's name as his body crashed limply against the stone walkway. Still embracing her, Elizabeth cried out at the sound of the gunshot and tried to turn her head toward it, but Lydia instinctively pulled her more firmly into her arms and braced her head against her own shoulder, not wanting the naïve girl to see the blood-spattered scene before her. Dropping his cane, Tanaka rushed toward Ciel and threw his body over the young Earl like a cover. Lydia glanced around frantically. "Where'd it come from?" she yelled.

Another shot rang out and shattered against the ground a few feet away from them. Elizabeth gave a tiny moan of terror. "They're shooting from the Church!" Tanaka called out, adjusting his monocle and glancing in that direction. Another shot was fired. This time she couldn't even tell where it landed.

"Run!" she screamed, pushing Elizabeth ahead of her as every member of their party who was still standing began to race back down the walkway toward the rows of carriages which would provide some cover. Ciel seized Elizabeth's arm and helped her stay upright as she hurtled along in high heels, and Lydia supported Tanaka with her right arm as the old servant ran as fast as he could. Lydia fervently hoped that Sebastian was unconscious and therefore insensitive to pain. He had been shot right in _the_ _head._ Holy Mary. Who on earth was shooting at them, and where….?

Lydia felt no pain, but she heard a _crack!_ and was suddenly aware that she was falling. She let go of Tanaka so she wouldn't drag him down with her. Gusts of air rushed all around her, and she suddenly thought of Kentish Street in all its Springtime glory, the wind blowing the petals off the cherry trees and sucking them into the sky….her father and her, walking down Kentish Street together….her father at home right now, wondering what she was doing at this very moment….this moment….was she going to die? The next instant, Lydia felt pain as she hit the ground on her knees, a heavy body on top of her. She twisted her torso around and found herself staring wide-eyed into the familiar face of Sebastian, completely conscious and smiling. Both of his shoulders were drenched in blood, but his head was whole and undamaged. His white-gloved hand was directly beside her temple, and he clutched a tiny, smoking piece of metal between his fingertips.

Another shot rang out, and Sebastian closed his eyes and grunted softly as it knocked him slightly forward onto her. The next second, he had hooked his arms around her and moved with lightning speed, depositing her behind the carriage which the rest of her party had just thrown themselves underneath. Still in shock, she crouched down and helped Ciel and Elizabeth climb out from under the vehicle, ducking lower as another shot shattered the carriage's window. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Ciel demanded, and Lydia shook her head, her beleaguered mourning veil falling off her bonnet as she whispered, "Quick, where's the carriage?"

"This way, master. Come!" Sebastian directed, seizing all three of them. With Tanaka hurrying behind, he practically dragged them, hunched-over, through the maze of gilded carriages until they found their own. Stumbling dumbly, they threw themselves inside and Lydia flung her arms protectively over Ciel and Elizabeth.

"Get on the floor! Get into the corners!" she whispered intensely, and she swiftly knelt down with them as they huddled among the foot-pillows and underseat cupboards of the carriage. Sebastian materialized next to her, and positioned his dark body over all of them. "Please be very still and do not scream, Miss Elizabeth. Their chances of hitting us are very slim now that they cannot pinpoint our position. Besides, I will protect you."

"I th-thought you had been killed!" Elizabeth warbled through her gushing tears. "Your head-"

"You are very kind to think of me, but it was merely a flesh wound. What would I do as a butler of the Phantomhive family if I could not deal with such a simple thing?" the demon asked calmly. A few more shots were fired, but Lydia could tell that they were not hitting close to them.

"Where's Tanaka?" she murmured, breathing out as Sebastian tucked her more securely under his arm.

"He is hiding behind the horses and keeping them calm. Master, what would you like me to do?"

From outside, Lydia could hear the defined screams of the frightened funeral-goers, most rushing out of the Church and toward the mess of carriages. Ciel bit his lip in exasperation. "Why on earth are those idiots running right across the line of fire? The gunmen aren't shooting _into_ the Church. They were safer where they were!"

"They're panicking," Lydia murmured, raising her head to peer out the bottom of the window. The scene looked like a field full of flying shadows- people dressed all in black were running helter-skelter through the cemetery, tripping over gravestones or cowering behind them. Some cried out to the Lord for mercy. _Dear God, please don't let the innocent be hurt,_ she thought as her heart fluttered. "When they get here in a few seconds, it'll be a mess. They'll all be taking off at once. We'll go with the crowd and be concealed among them. When we're satisfied that we're safe, Sebastian can go back and try to apprehend the shooters."

"Yes, master." Sebastian bowed his head, and then called out the window, "Mr. Tanaka! Please prepare the carriage to drive! I will stay inside and ensure that these ones are safe from harm."

Lydia listened hard, but she could hear no more shots being fired as the fleeing crowd washed over the rows of carriages. Poor Elizabeth was trembling like an aspen leaf and clutching onto Ciel and Lydia's clothing with all her might. She heard Tanaka climb into the driver's seat, and then they waited. After several bumps and amidst multitudes of shouting, the carriage finally swung onto the cobblestone street and began its long journey to safety. No one particularly seemed to want to climb back into the seats, so they stayed bunched together on the floor. "Where are we going?" Lydia questioned, still feeling the need to whisper even though no one could have possibly heard her voice amongst the rattling of dozens of carriages around them.

"I think that we should return to Phantomhive manor posthaste." Sebastian opined. The blood on his shoulders was still wet, and it almost glittered in the weak light from the sun.

"Why not the town house?" Ciel asked, glaring ferociously back in the direction of the Church.

"The manor will be much easier for me to secure against further attacks. We will be safer if we are operating from our home base, so to speak."

"All right, all right." Ciel acquiesced, glancing sideways toward Sebastian. "When we reach the limits of this Borough, I want you to disembark and return to the Church to seek out the shooters. I want to know who they are, who they're working for, and what their motive was for this vicious attack. If there is any further trouble along the road, I shall call for you."

"Very good, young master."

Sebastian left them at the edge of the Borough after securing the window shades and prying the plaque which bore the Phantomhive family crest off of the carriage door so they could make it home inconspicuously. Eventually, the carriage's inhabitants slid carefully back up into the padded seats. Elizabeth sniffled the whole way to the manor, and she only stopped trembling when Ciel finally put his arms around her (after several meaningful looks from Lydia.) The two looked oddly picturesque together, so young and pretty and _alive._ The shock was slowly wearing off, and now Lydia felt terrible. How could she have possibly agreed to venture out in public with such a prominent family? She had been wrong- grandfather might be dead, but other people were clearly not done with trying to kill her. She should have said no to Aunt Angelina, no matter how forceful she had been. She had put everyone at risk.

Ciel and Lydia barely spoke as they rode through the peaceful countryside, slowly progressing toward the manor. Their only exchange of words occurred as they were passing by a duck pond. "D'you think everyone will be safe there?" Lydia murmured, gazing up ahead.

Ciel nodded briskly. "My servants are very capable of protecting the manor in case of an emergency. That is why I hired them. What I'm more concerned with is uncovering the correct interpretation of the situation at hand."

"Interpretation….?" Lydia trailed off, frowning.

Ciel traced his hand along the wooden edge of the armrest. "Were they shooting at you….or at me?"

The two siblings gazed at each other with identical pairs of blue eyes, each set reflecting the trouble harbored within the other.

/

Sebastian appeared at the door of the carriage as soon as it stopped in front of the manor. He quickly ushered the three of them inside, glancing about to either side as he did so. As Tanaka helped them out of their coats in the entrance hall, Sebastian disappeared down the hall and did not return for several minutes. Lydia did not realize what he was doing until the party proceeded into the manor and she noticed that all the curtains had been tightly drawn. They were walking entirely in the dark; it was almost like floating.

The servants rushed out to greet them, and Lydia stepped back and allowed Ciel to handle the giving of the orders. He entrusted Meirin to put Elizabeth to bed immediately, as she was in shock, and to keep smelling salts on hand in case she fainted. He explicitly directed the gardener and cook to lock all the doors and windows, stay inside, and not respond to the knocks of any visitors. They were clearly confused, but they scurried to do as they were told. Lydia noticed briefly that they all had thin black ribbons tied around their wrists, and wondered what that was about. She hugged Elizabeth and promised to call her house straight away, then allowed Meirin to lead the younger girl upstairs as gently as she could. A moment later, Ciel had seized her wrist and was pulling her down an adjacent hallway, determination evident in his visible eye. The two remaining servants followed. Ciel halted at the door of yet another sitting room; if she lived long enough, Lydia thought, she would really have to number the different types of rooms which this manor possessed. So far she had not ever been in the same bedroom or parlor twice.

"Tanaka, please go and ensure that Finnian and Bard are acting appropriately on the orders I gave them. Sebastian, get inside." Lydia followed Sebastian and Ciel into the new sitting room, in which a fire was already burning in the fireplace. Ciel sat down on the centerpiece couch, and motioned for Lydia to join him. He pulled the black eyepatch off his eye in a sharp motion, revealing the sign of the contract.

"Shouldn't we call Elizabeth's house and let them know that she's all right? And I need to call my father as well…." Lydia asked, slumping down into the couch's cushions in sudden exhaustion. The fire made every corner of the room comfortably warm, and it gave her a sense of security which she knew was false.

"First we need to figure out what has happened here. We can give out better information once we know what this incident was about." Ciel reasoned, jerking his head toward Sebastian. "You, give your report without delay. And while you're at it, unlace these boots and get them off my feet. Such thick-soled footwear was _not_ intended to be worn while running for one's life."

The demon drifted forward, murmuring "Yes, master," and kneeling down at Ciel's feet. Lydia noticed an embossed piece of paper sticking out of his suit pocket, bearing the Phantomhive crest seal. "I returned to the Church as you ordered and proceeded to locate the men who had conducted the shooting. They were still on the structure's roof."

"Did you wring every last drop of information out of them before turning them over to the authorities?" Ciel demanded, arching his eyebrow regally.

The demon pursed his lips, beginning to untie the laces of Ciel's elegant black boots. "Unfortunately, this was not possible, as they were already deceased when I reached them."

"What?" Ciel exclaimed, and Lydia's nails dug into the plush surface of the couch. "Someone killed the shooters?" He rubbed his forehead for a moment, then relaxed again. "Ironic. How did it happen?"

"There were two of them, and they died of gunshot wounds to the back and the head; the same method which they tried to use to dispatch us." Sebastian relayed, smirking slightly. "As I was there before the authorities, I conducted a thorough search of their persons. I then left the scene and further investigated the information which I had found. One was named Seamus Heaney, a recent immigrant from Ireland. He had been working odd jobs in London before his death, and seemed to have limited skills as a tradesman. The other was William McCall; he did not seem to have an official occupation, which probably means that he engaged in criminal activities to provide for himself. Heaney was an inner-city drifter, but McCall had a residence in Camden Town- near to you master, although he probably did not recognize you at the time of the shooting."

"Holy Mary- I hope I didn't know him." Lydia groaned, imitating her brother and pressing a hand to her forehead. "Were they trying to kill me, then?"

"I think that their target was indeed most probably you." Sebastian stared up at Lydia while tugging a boot off of Ciel's thin leg.

Lydia sighed gustily. "Who put them up to it? I don't recognize either of their names- I doubt they could have had a personal grudge against me without my knowing it. They were probably hired, yes?"

"Yes, master. They were likely offered money to kill you. Determining who the contractor of their services was will require more investigation. However-"

"But what about Heaney and McCall's killers? What do we know about them?" Ciel interrupted, leaning forward intently as the second boot released its hold on his foot. "It doesn't make sense. Did they kill them because they were trying to help us, or are they also our enemies?"

"At the moment, I cannot be sure of that. My first priority after gathering the available information was to catch up with the carriage, in case you were threatened while on the road. However, I believe that this may shine some light on the matter." Sebastian removed the embossed piece of paper from his front pocket and pressed it into Lydia's hand. "It arrived only this afternoon, while we were at the funeral. I discovered it in the young master's office only a moment ago. I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of opening it."

Lydia stared at Sebastian in puzzlement, then flipped open the folded piece of paper. She read it together with Ciel. After a moment, both siblings recoiled from it, and Lydia pushed it away. "It's got to be a fake. Who on earth would-"

"It is not a fake, master. It is your grandmother's last will and testament."

"But grandmother died almost three years ago!" Lydia protested, gesturing vividly toward London, where her maternal grandmother was laid to rest. She had heard that the family had managed to pay someone off to allow her to be interred in the Churchyard cemetery, even though she had died by her own hand, a deed which was considered a great sin. Grandfather would be interred next to her in the cemetery which they had just come from, if there was anyone left to attend his funeral.

"If you read the above section, she strictly instructs that this letter is to be delivered to you after her husband has died." Sebastian explained, pointing to the top of the paper. "Another copy has apparently been filed with an office of the law."

"She says that she's left me a share of her estate." Lydia announced in a faint voice.

Still kneeling on the floor, Sebastian smiled up at her. _"To my only grandson and heir, Ciel Phantomhive, I bequeath a full half of my independent estate, including monies, properties, company shares, and personal possessions, to be used and disposed of according to his will and pleasure. Of the remaining half, I will two-thirds to my eldest granddaughter, Lydia Aberlaine, who has henceforth been unacknowledged in our family line, but whom I acknowledge now. The remaining one-third will be dispensed equally among my remaining relatives, whom I name here…." _Sebastian recited by memory, tracing his finger down the page. _"If any of these parties should become deceased or otherwise unreachable before the time that this will takes effect, the unclaimed share of my estate will be distributed amongst my remaining relatives, as named above."_

Lydia shook her head in denial, pulling off her bonnet and letting her brown locks tumble past her shoulders. "It's got to be a fake. You know, I barely even knew Grandma Phantomhive. She avoided me like the plague when we lived in the manor together. I don't even remember her middle name, or her birthday, or…."

"It is not a fake." Sebastian insisted, draping an arm across her legs to support himself. "I believe that her original plan was to give the young master half of her estate, and bequeath the other half to be divided among her further relations. Apparently, she changed her mind before her death."

"Why would she do that?" Lydia was trying to grasp at reason, but reason seemed to have retreated from the conversation.

"Atonement can be a powerful motivating force." Ciel cut in suddenly, gazing sternly at the paper. "She never did anything to help you in life, even when she knew that she should have. Perhaps she wanted to help you in death."

"It doesn't say why she did it," Lydia muttered, turning the paper over; the underside was blank. "People always think that they can just create a problem and then throw a bunch of money at it…."

"Indeed." Sebastian agreed. "And now we seem to have an even greater problem on our hands. If I were to begin to look for suspects in the hiring of those two murderers, I would definitely begin with these people." He traced his finger down the list of names of those who were to receive the remaining one-third of the estate. "_Money_ is a powerful motivating force for human beings. Furthermore, I believe that whoever is behind this attack probably instructed their men to shoot me through the head before attempting to kill you. They were hoping that I would be out if commission for just long enough to leave you unprotected. No one but fellow members of the Phantomhive family are aware of my immortality."

"So apparently, now my distant relatives are trying to kill me so they can receive my share of this estate which I didn't even know I had until five minutes ago?" Lydia groaned, feeling like collapsing upon the couch. "I suppose that's better than wanting to kill me for merely existing….but it's not much of an improvement."

"Master, I will not allow it to happen." Sebastian declared, his red eyes glinting. Lydia thought that he looked a bit overly eager.

"That still doesn't answer the question of who killed those men, though, or what they meant by it." Ciel murmured, staring deeply into the flames. "That aside, this could be declared an act of aggression against the noble house of Phantomhive. Such crimes are not punished lightly."

"I don't think it can, actually. I'm illegitimate, remember?" Lydia told Ciel gently as she straightened up out of her slump. "Anyway, I seriously doubt that they would try to murder the true heir, not even to gain half of the estate. They could probably get away with it if they killed me, but Queen Victoria herself would become their enemy if they killed you."

"Nobody is going to get away with anything." Ciel declared angrily, rising up and tossing his top hat onto an armchair beside the fire. "We're going to apprehend these bastards before they do any more harm. First, we need to call the Midford manor and Lydia's residence in Camden Town. After that, Sebastian- go and prepare a dossier on all of the individuals which my grandmother named as beneficiaries of the remaining portion of her estate. Also, find out which office the copy of the will has been filed at. Gather any other information pertinent to this case in an adjacent file. And monitor the security in and around the manor, as always."

For the first time she had seen thus far, Sebastian seemed genuinely pleased to answer an order of his master's. He stood and bowed deeply, a devilish smirk playing across his features and the depth of his voice rumbling about the room as he intoned, "Yes, my Lord."

/

Lydia was heading down the hall to where the telephone was located when she was stopped by the timid, red-haired maid, who was peering out from behind a corner at her. "Yes?" she asked curiously.

"Ah, hello, Miss Phantomhi- I mean, Miss Lydia, I mean-"

"Lydia will be fine. I'm not a dowager." The brunette tried to smile cheerfully.

"Yes, well- I mean, I know that! Obviously, you're very young and pretty and….you're really Ciel's sister, aren't you?" the slightly older girl inquired abruptly, adjusting her glasses and coming a step closer. "I mean, I know you are! Because the young master told me, but it's just….the eyes….they're the same."

Lydia opened her blue eyes wider, and Meirin smiled. "I never even knew that Ciel had a sister. Where've you been? Why haven't you ever called at the manor before?"

"It's….kind of a long story, actually." Lydia admitted balefully. "I have to make an important phone call right now, but I could tell you more about it later on…."

"Oh, of course, I mean, that's fine!" Meirin spluttered, fumbling around with her glasses again with both hands. Lydia wondered if she was like this around everyone, or if she was just nervous because they had never met before. She seemed quite sweet, if a tad air-headed. Lydia was curious as to what skills this girl possessed that made Ciel so confident in her ability to protect the manor.

"Oh, that's right! I came here to give you this." Meirin advanced forward another step, holding out a thin black ribbon identical to the one upon her own wrist. "To hold off death."

"Ah." Lydia took the ribbon and stared at it closely. She was not particularly superstitious, but she could tell that it was offered in goodwill. She looped it around her own wrist and Meirin shyly helped her tie it. She noticed two other ribbons hanging from the girl's hand, probably meant for Ciel and Sebastian. Meirin's concern touched her. "Thank you for caring for my brother while I've been away."

"Of course!" Meirin exclaimed, blushing furiously. "I'm glad you're back, though. I think he needs family. I just hope that your family isn't afflicted with any more death."

"I hope so too." Lydia told her quietly. She could not see out the curtained window beside them, but she could tell by the tiny taps against the glass that it had begun to rain.


	18. Sympathy for the Devil

**Hello all! Here is the extra story that I wrote for you guys for Christmas. It turned out half-cute (because of little Lydia,) and half-dark (because of Sebastian.) It takes place back when Lydia is six years old and still living primarily at the manor, and Ciel is only one. Remember that this was back when Lydia still had a normal soul. **

**Please review, and my muse (which I have decided takes the form of a panda) will be inspired to give me more ideas for the next chapter! :D**

There was a closet-room down past the scullery that had once been used for storing blackened boots. It was a full door's length, but only wide enough that a man's arms would still be bent at the elbows, were he to place them on either wall. It was barren it those days, and the walls smelled overpoweringly of the chemicals used to shine shoes. There were no lights within. There was a padlock fitted to the door. The walls, the ceiling, even the floor were disfigured with deep scars. That was all. For almost 100 years, Sebastian had lived within.

The demon hated the little closet with a vengeance. There was not much he could do, given that he was prevented from breaking the lock, and forbidden to emerge unless called for by his master. This was his 'room,' his place within the manor, where he was kept when he was not being used. He had not been shut in the closet excessively until Rachel Phantomhive had gained full possession of him from her father. Under her ownership, he spent more time than ever before trapped within the small room, waiting for someone to call him. Sometimes he could wait for days. Unlike her predecessors, Rachel did not allow Sebastian to simply wander around the manor where he worked. If he was not directly engaged in some type of domestic service, she insisted that he be locked away from the rest of the household. The demon had never had such orders before, and he was forever trying to find additional tasks to complete, to avoid being sequestered in the closet once again. Rachel was not easy to fool, however. She was afraid of him. She hated for Sebastian to be near her, and she hated even more for him to be near her children. She believed that he would hurt them. She was not completely wrong in that regard…. Even so, he hated being separated from them. His demonic powers were meaningless if he had no one to use them on.

It was not that Sebastian was afraid of the dark, or of small spaces. He was a demon, and demons did not care about such miniscule human terrors. He simply did not like the closet. That was all. Although the demon was prone to sulking in the shadows when angry, he usually much preferred to be out among people, occupied with tasks. It wasn't that he liked humans in particular, or that he was so devoted to efficiently serving his masters. He simply found that the press of humanity and the buzz of busy-ness helped to keep his mind off his own inner pain, and thus lessened it, if only in feeling. When he was stuck in the closet, he had nothing by which to distract himself. He was alone. They wouldn't even give him any books to read, and he was forbidden from transforming or using his voice in any way. It was then that the fire flared up inside him, insidious as a living thing, a hunter that had been waiting for the moment when its victim was weakest. Senseless pain. Torture. Unable to scream, Sebastian resorted to clawing at the walls around him, and sometimes at his own body, trying to dig the fire out of him. The wounds just healed a moment later, and the blood dissipated. Nothing he did made any difference. It was rare that anyone would walk by the closet within which he was imprisoned- he got the distinct sense that they all took alternate routes in order to avoid it. Still, rarely, Sebastian would hear the quiet pace of footfalls in the corridor outside, which always increased in rapidity as they drew near his 'room.' _Notice me. Notice me. Let me out. It hurts._ They always passed him by on the other side of the hallway. It was then, more than any other time, that he hated them. He dreamed of ripping apart their souls in hell and hearing their (still-living-unable-to-die-dead-but-not-dead) screams as he threw them into the deepest fires. That day would come, he told himself. He could almost taste it on his tongue, sore from being bitten in agony. For now, he had to be patient. Patient. Patient. He tried not to think about the bitter truth, that no matter how many souls he maimed and devoured, how well he got his revenge on these useless, insipid humans, he could never free himself of the ultimate source of his pain, for it was not human-made. The day would come…. But for now, Sebastian huddled on the floor of the pitch-dark closet, shivering as fire wracked his body, gritting his teeth hopelessly against the need to scream that was almost choking him. He waited for the call. _Patience. Patience. Patience. Remember me. Notice me. Let me out. Patience. It hurts._

One day, Lydia found him there.

Sebastian had no idea, really, how she'd gotten ahold of a key ring that included the key to his closet. Lydia at that time was only six years old. She was graduating past the helplessness of early childhood, and was learning to do things and go places on her own. Apparently, she'd decided that today should be the day that she explored more of the manor in which she lived. Sebastian didn't know how she had gone about it. All he knew was that he had been curled up in the dark, digging his clawed hands into the floor in a vain attempt to distract himself from the pain, when suddenly, a pattering of very light footsteps sounded outside the door. The demon's interest perked instantly, because these were different- they did not speed up as they drew near his closet, and what was more, they were positioned on his side of the hallway. Abruptly, the door gave a rattle, and then Sebastian heard the clinking of keys being turned in a hand. The curious demon prowled closer to the door. This was not the manner in which he was usually released from his confinement. When Rachel called to him through their connection, he then had permission to vanish from the closet and reappear by her side. Likewise, when she sent him back, he was then obligated to reappear back here, under orders. He could count the number of times in which he had ever been let out through the actual door on one hand. Was this good or….bad? Sebastian moved warily back as the mysterious person finally found the right key, although the room afforded no protection. His mind ran rapidly over everything he had done within the past few days that might have displeased his master, and he bit his lip. He couldn't scream in here….

Then the door popped over, and the tousled, dark-haired head of a very small person was leaning into the room with eager, inquisitive eyes. For a moment, his little master did not seem to realize what she was seeing as her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. Then she opened the door a little wider, and the light fell on the dark shape of the demon hunkered in the corner.

"Sebastian?" Her eyes darted back and fourth across the closet, trying to make sense of the scene.

The demon tried to answer, but found that he couldn't get his throat to open. Before he could think of what to do, the little girl had darted across the room to his side.

"Sebastian, why are you locked in the closet down here? Did you get stuck? Are you sleeping? Are you looking for something? This closet needs some fixing up." The little girl commented, casting her eyes upon the shredded surfaces. Her cloth play dress brushed against him as she came closer. Her curious blue eyes widened. "Are you exploring too?"

The demon shook his head and attempted a feeble gesture. He was still burning.

"'Cause that's what I'm doing, see? I've got these keys to all the doors down here, and I'm finding out what's around! So far there's been a lot of stuff for cleaning, and some things I don't know about. Come on, I'll show you-"At that moment, Lydia attempted to grasp Sebastian's hand and tug him to his feet. He pulled back and shook his head, causing Lydia to tilt her head in puzzlement. "Come on! It's scary in here. Let's go explore!"

Sebastian bit his lip and pulled her hand closer to him. Slowly, pausing in between words, he traced careful letters upon her palm with his finger. _I cannot leave, master._

"You cannot….leave?" The demon shook his head. Lydia pulled at his shirt. "Sebastian, why? Who did this?" Once again, he gestured to his throat and his mouth, and this time she understood. "You can't speak? Orders? It's okay, Sebastian. You can talk to me."

This was as good as permission from the child, and the demon felt his throat unconstrict. "Lydia…." He whispered, testing out his voice.

"What happened, Sebastian? Why are you locked up in here? Are you being punished? Can't you get free?"

"I….am afraid I cannot, master. Your mother prefers that I should stay in here, like this. You know that I cannot disobey." Sebastian murmured, rubbing his contract mark with the other hand. Young as she was, Lydia understood at least this much of the demon's nature.

"But what did you do to get put in here? Did you make her angry?" the child continued, staring at the mark as one might look at blood for the first time. Intrigued, and yet repulsed at once. Sebastian shifted his weight against the cold stone floor.

"I did nothing, in particular. This is my room. This is where I have to stay when I'm not working in the household. Your mother has given certain orders, including that I am not allowed to speak or to leave this room without permission. This is where I wait for her to call me," he explained softly.

Lydia's wide eyes widened further, and she leaned toward him, peering more slowly around the room again. "Sebastian….you mean….this is where you are when you're not with us?"

"Yes, master."

"This is where you are all the time? Before my mommy calls you, you're here? And you can't get out?"

"Yes," he murmured. There was a long, quiet pause. Then-

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Sebastian blinked in surprise. Tell her? What good would telling the little girl have done? Her mother would never agree to change his conditions, no matter who brought it up with her. In fact, the knowledge that her little angel had been exposed to such a distressing scene as this would only serve to make Rachel very, very angry…. He glanced nervously at the door. Meanwhile, Lydia was still waiting for an answer. "I….did not think it worth bringing up, master. This is the way I have always lived-"

"But Sebastian!" she protested further. "Aren't you scared down here, in the dark, all alone? Don't you want to get out and come up?"

"What I want does not make a difference. It all depends on what my master desires."

She stared for awhile at his impassive face. "Am I your master, Sebastian?"

He raised his head. "You are," he affirmed, nodding in acknowledgement. "And at this point in time, so is your mother. Someday, when you have taken the contract and have come to the proper age, my ownership will pass to you alone. Then you can do with me as you wish." As the demon spoke, he could not help but wonder, quietly, exactly what that would be. Lydia favored him now, but that was because she was a child and did not understand the full implications of what he was. To her, he was nothing more than a good servant and a kind caregiver. But once she gained knowledge, what would she do? Would she cast him aside like her mother had done? Torture him to keep him weak, like her grandfather? Or perhaps string him out like a marionette, in the manner of her great-grandfather? Sebastian bit his pale lip, and forced himself to look into the eyes of his little master. They contained no malice; only concern. She slipped her tiny hands on top of his larger ones.

"It's okay, don't be scared." She told him bluntly, scooting herself closer to him. "It's okay." After a moment, the demon understood what she was giving him permission to do. He carefully brought his hand up and touched her forehead, bringing his other hand around to the back of her neck. She leaned her head against his chest as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Better?"

"Monumentally so." He told her, playing with her hair with soft fingers. "Thank you."

"Sebastian? Do you have to do what my mommy tells you….no matter what?"

"Yes, I do," the demon murmured.

"Even if you _really_ don't want to?"

"Yes, even then."

"But you're so strong." The girl protested, looking up at him. "You can lift big rocks and disappear and turn into things and move really fast….and my mommy can't do anything like that….so, why do you have to listen to her?"

The demon smiled. It was a rather good question for a six-year-old. "I have no choice. I may possess many incredible abilities, but I am still in a subservient position to your mother and yourself. I have no power over my masters in life, because I am bound to them through this contract, and I cannot break it." He showed her the pentagram seal upon his left hand. "If I try to resist my orders, I will end up in worse pain than I am usually in- which is a rather strong incentive to obey."

"Where does that pain come from?" Lydia asked, tracing a tiny finger down the side of his face.

Sebastian stroked her skin softly, cradling her with one arm like a newborn. "I am cursed."

"Like in the fairy tales?"

"….A bit, I suppose."

"How did that happen? Did you do something bad?"

"….It is something which I prefer not to speak of." Sebastian murmured, closing his red eyes briefly.

She could have forced him to tell her, but Sebastian doubted that the thought would cross her mind. "Oh. Well, how do you break the curse? Do you have to drink some magic water or kiss a princess or go on a quest? I could help you when I grow up!"

The demon smiled slightly, revealing his fanged teeth. "That is very kind of you to offer, master. Unfortunately, the curse which I am under can never be broken. I do not have that recourse."

Lydia blinked. "But I thought that you can't ever die? That's what I heard mommy saying when she thought I wasn't listening."

"That is correct. I cannot die."

"But, then doesn't that mean that you'll live forever….and be in pain all the time? That's terrible!"

"Unfortunately, yes. It will become much worse after the world ends- but don't worry, master, that will not happen for many, many years. Even I do not know the exact time. But it will be far into the future."

He could tell that fatalist concepts such as the end of the world were a bit too complicated for one as young as Lydia to fully grasp. Still, she looked sufficiently alarmed. "What will happen after the world ends?"

"Many things will happen," he told her, shifting her weight in his arms. "But the one of most concern to me is that I will have to go back to where I came from, and stay there forever. I will no longer be able to leave and come to this world, because this world will be gone."

"You mean you'll go home?"

The demon growled lowly. "It is not my home. It is a prison created for my kind."

"I thought this was your prison?"

"This is nothing." Sebastian declared, tracing a finger over a deep scratch in the floorboard. He listened to the wooden gash sing out in pain as his claw dug into it and made it deeper.

Lydia watched his hand silently for moment. "So what is the place where you come from like?"

Sebastian grimaced. "It is a world of fire. My pain will be incalculably worse there than it is here," he informed her, and left it at that. Even he knew that it would not be a good idea to try to explain the horrors of hell to a six-year-old.

Suddenly, Lydia hugged him. He was so startled that he had to stop himself from reflexively pushing her away. "Poor, poor Sebastian," she whispered in distress, nuzzling the side of his face. "I wish I could help you! Is there really nothing anybody can do?"

"No, master….no one can change my fate," he murmured, leaning tiredly against the wall with the little girl still attached to his waist. "However, your light helps to reduce my pain in the present time. I am grateful for that."

"Sebastian….who cursed you?" Lydia's muffled voice asked softly. Sebastian stiffened, as though the mere mention of _him_ would bring that spirit upon them. Even though, technically, he was already here, a tiny seedling within the little girl who clung so trustingly to the demon. That was the annoying thing about living in this world- he couldn't go anywhere without _that spirit_ already being there, although it was invisible to him. He lowered his face until his pale lips were almost touching the top of her head.

"He lives in you….but I am going to cast him out. He cannot have everything. You are _mine_."

"What?" she piped up in confusion. Sebastian ran his fingers through her straight brown hair.

"Perhaps you'll understand when you are older."

At that moment, a door creaked open down the hallway. Lydia jumped and Sebastian jerked back, having temporarily forgotten where they were. After several tense moments, they heard a pair of footsteps walking away down an adjacent hallway. Relaxing in relief, Sebastian glanced quietly down at Lydia, who was hiding her face in her cotton play dress. He wondered if he had frightened her. "Master, you ought to sneak away now. If I am discovered with you in here, I will be in a great deal of trouble, as will you. Make sure to put the keys back from wherever you stole them, so no one will notice them missing. You must not mention to anyone that you found me in here, all right?"

After a moment, Lydia curled stubbornly into his side. "Why don't you come with me? This closet is a scary place. It will be all dark if I close the door. And if I go, you won't have my light."

"Please, master," he whispered anxiously as he heard another door grate open down the corridor. "I will be all right. I am used to this. I will get out eventually. But your mother must not find out that you were here- it's very important."

"Okay, okay!" she replied, rolling to her feet. "But Sebastian- be careful!"

"I will," he promised, although he had no idea what he was supposed to be careful of. He allowed her to hug him again, and then she slipped out the door, closing it slowly behind her. He heard the padlock click back into place, and listened as the tiny footsteps darted away and disappeared into the surrounding silence. After a few more moments of intense listening, the demon slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes as the fire began to wind back through his veins. She was such a tiny girl, and there was so little she could do….but still, it gave him an inexplicable sense of security to know that she wanted to help him. As the darkness crept back into his eyes, Sebastian bit his lip hard and felt the blood run down his chin. _She will be mine._

/

Lydia did not stay away, however. She came back a few days later, and then again, and then again. For two months, almost every night, the little girl would sneak herself down to the closet past the scullery, usually in the evenings, when her presence was no longer required by her mother. She could not unlock the closet door, and stealing the keys again would have been too risky, but she would sit right outside the door and speak softly with the demon enclosed inside. She brought along books, little beginning primers, which she would read to him as animatedly as she could. Sebastian allowed this with a sense of vague amusement, but really, he was glad for her visits. He liked talking to her. After a few nights, Lydia figured out how to slip her tiny hand underneath the doorframe just far enough that Sebastian could reach out and hold it. Needless to say, this helped immensely. Lydia behaved kindly and carefully around him even when she met him outside of the closet; she stopped her habits of protesting her bedtime and running away when he tried to bring her inside. It dawned on Sebastian that his little master felt _sorry_ for him- a sentiment to which he wasn't sure how to react. For thousands of years, the demon had been the subject of loathing, fear, disgust, hatred, and anger on behalf of humans, but never pity. It unbalanced him. This little master was proving to be very different, after all. Even so, the side of Sebastian which screamed in pain and cried out for rest told him to take what he could get. If Lydia wanted to be charitable toward him, who was he to stop her? He accepted the presence of the little voice outside of his 'room' every night, but still, he wondered at it. And when the time came for Lydia to let go, and Sebastian gasped in pain as the fire came spearing back into his body, he wondered at the soothing little cadences from the other side of the door, intending nothing but comfort. Where did the child find it in herself to comfort a demon? _It's okay, Sebastian. I'll help you. Don't worry. Soon, you'll see….soon, we'll get you out of here…._

He thought she was merely rambling, of course. Childish fantasy, lip-service. She meant well, but she was too young to fully grasp the severity of the situation. She was playing with him. Sebastian understood how it all worked. What was a six-year-old going to do to help him? As different as she was from other humans, the demon knew that she would sooner or later grow bored with this little game of visit-the-prisoner, and move on to more exciting things, and leave him behind. He had seen this same scenario play out again and again with his former young masters. When they were small children, they cuddled up to him and treated him more or less like a family relation. They were still so fresh from _that place_ that they did not know what it was to hate. But as they grew and became able to understand the adult world, they watched the way their parents and real relatives treated him, and then they turned cruel. Even Rachel had not always hated him; before she'd turned five, she had been quite fond of taking him out on picnics to the lake and trying to climb on his shoulders. But she wouldn't remember any of that now. Only a few months afterward, she wouldn't even touch him. Sebastian did not care what they thought of him- they were merely humans, after all, and would be gone within a season- but still, he had learned never to trust in the affections of a child. Lydia was coming to the age where she would begin to turn, and the demon watched warily for signs. They always did, in the end- they grew up, and they never remembered how he had cared for them as children.

There came a series of nights then, in the second month, when his little master did not come to him after dinner like she usually did. Sebastian had been locked in the closet for quite a few days at that point, since Rachel had left the manor with her husband and put Tanaka in charge of Lydia. The demon dispiritedly assumed that the child had given up hanging around the scullery every night for his sake. Reading to a thick door could not be very exciting, and she probably had more appealing things to do. He couldn't say that he hadn't expected it. Even so, he had grown accustomed to cooling his pain with her light every evening, and the absence of it drilled into his spirit like an auger. He had been slumped against the wall, trying to tone the flames down to a manageable level, when he heard those footsteps again. He stilled his body and listened as they came directly to the closet. Instead of a voice, however, the next thing Sebastian heard was the grating of a key in the lock, and then the door was flung open so quickly that he barely had time to register the little shape before she hurried in and knelt by his side. She was wearing a lovely golden nightdress, and her hair was pulled back into that tiny bottlebrush of a ponytail. Her little face was flushed. Unable to hold back, the demon reached up and desperately wrapped his hands around her arms, pulling her into his shoulder as he tried to control his heaving breaths. Lydia was very still, letting the demon have what he needed. After awhile, she whispered, "Sebastian." The demon pulled back a bit, gazing at the floor. "Lift your head up."

Still unable to speak, Sebastian obeyed in puzzlement. Then she had seized his hand and endeavored to pull him to his feet. "Come on, Sebastian, I've got something to show you. You can leave the closet. It's okay. Come with me!" Mind swimming in confusion, he stood up and followed her out of the hated room, down the hall, and to the right. Lydia's excitement was palpable in the air as they hurried along, the tiny child seeming to know exactly where she was going. They ducked through tapestried doors and mounted staircases and peered out into corridors to make sure they were empty before proceeding. Finally, the glowing child and the curious demon arrived at their destination after descending a staircase near the main part of the house. There was an ordinary-looking door in front of them, and Sebastian reached out to hold it open for his master. But the little girl shook her head, and led him under the stairwell. There, in the midst of the shadows, lay a reddish cherry-wood door with the appearance of having had the dust just recently wiped away from its surface.

"You all right, Sebastian?" Lydia asked, letting go of his hand to reach inside her pocket and pull out another key. He gestured to his throat. "Oh yes, you can talk now. I forgot." She tiptoed forward and deftly unlocked the door. "Come on," she whispered, and disappeared inside. The demon glanced all around him a moment longer, then followed her in.

He honestly did not know what he had been expecting. He really hadn't had time to form any expectations at all, being so suddenly freed from his long captivity. Yet what he beheld when he entered through the mysterious door was nothing less than a furnished, comfortable little room. There was a bed near the window, well-dressed in dark red-brown sheets. A wooden nightstand perched next to it, a lamp glowing softly upon its surface. There was a desk and chair over in the corner, with a view of the second window, and a slim dresser stood against the wall, empty drawers hanging open sparingly. On the wall opposite the bed hung a painting of a river. The demon stared around the room in bewilderment, until he felt a tiny hand tug at his sleeve. He peered down into the eyes of his master, who suddenly looked much more self-conscious than he had ever seen her look. "Do you….like it?"

"Yes, I do," Sebastian answered honestly, "but….why are we here?" Then Lydia laughed, and the nervousness in her eyes vanished.

"You silly! This is your room now. I've prepared it for you."

"What?"

"Well, Tanaka helped too. He helped me carry up the furniture I found in the basement, and arrange it in here. Then I made everything match and I found some bedsheets and paper and pens and books and a pitcher and washcloths and pajamas and pillows and everything else you'll need! I had to clean the room out first. It was hard, because I've never cleaned anything before. I read about how to do it in a book. You have to do it with a broom. This room got so dusty, I couldn't even see the door!"

"Master did all this….for me?" Sebastian murmured, looking around much more slowly at everything in the room. "I can live here?"

"Yes!" The little girl exclaimed, her blue eyes crinkling up as she smiled. "I hoped you'd like it, Sebastian. It took me forever to decide on the furniture. Come see, come see…."

The demon allowed himself to be led around the softly lit room as Lydia happily explained to him about how she'd chosen each piece of furniture and why she thought it was best. ("If you want to be a cat, you can curl up in here, see!") Inwardly, he was very still. This room was his? He could live here now? _This_ was what his little master had been doing since she'd discovered him in the closet? Her small, fleshy hand clung to his, while she used her other one to open drawers and stroke the wooden surfaces gently, an ethereal kind of pride radiating from her figure. Finally, she flopped down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. "And now I'm tired." She announced, burying her face in the covers.

Sebastian sat down tentatively next to her. "Master, if I may ask, how long have you been at work preparing….this?"

"Almost two months." Lydia replied with a laid-back yawn. "When I found you in the closet like that, I knew I had to do something. As long as you're in this world and not back where you came from, I want you to have a good place to live. You'll like it much better here, I know." She pushed herself upward and offered the ornate key to the cherry-wood door to him.

"But your mother…." Sebastian murmured, taking the key, and Lydia flopped back down and smiled.

"I asked her if I could move you someplace closer to my room so I could call you when I need you. She said all right, as long as I kept you out of the way. And this is out of the way. I didn't even know this room was here at all until I started exploring! Also, it's right by my room, just two floors underneath and to the left a little bit. So you can come and visit me now."

Lydia buried her satisfied face into the warm covers again, and Sebastian lapsed into thoughtful silence, staring at the dark cherry red of the walls around him. This seemed almost too good to be true. If Lydia had ever shown signs of cruelty toward him before, he would have thought that perhaps this was a trick. But the demon could tell when a human was lying, and there had been nothing but pure honesty in his little master as she showed him the room. So it really was his. She had gone to all this trouble to prepare a place for him, and now he could stay here. _Pajamas._ She had gotten him pajamas and pillows and a bed, and he couldn't even sleep. He suddenly felt like laughing at the thought of how outraged his former masters would have been to see this room. He lay down next to the child, and stroked his pale fingers softly along the patterns of the quilted bedspread. She was an odd one. She was not just playing with him, he realized. She was actually trying to be _kind _to him, without expecting anything in return. Normally, this would have displeased him, as kindness was a virtue and virtue of any sort was to be fervently discouraged in humans, especially young ones. However, Sebastian was a self-serving creature if he was nothing else, and if her kindness would get him his own room and a lessening of his pain….The demon had long ago realized the quandary which Lydia and her nature posed to him. Allowing her to grow into the goodness which was intrinsic of humanity went against his own nature as a demon; it also meant that her soul would be much less likely to be corrupted as an adult. If she ultimately entered into Heaven upon her death, he would then be unable to eat her soul. However, Sebastian had a nervous feeling that if he were to actively encourage vice in Lydia as he had with his former masters- fostering hatred and resentment in their family circles, inflating their sense of self-importance, and enticing them with wealth and status symbols- then Lydia would eventually come to scorn everyone, including him. She would see him as nothing more than a supernatural, all-purpose slave, and would close the 'doors' of her soul to him. This would be problematic as well, as it would increase his pain while she was alive, though ensuring him a meal upon her death.

Sebastian had been so busy pondering this that he hadn't noticed his little master slowly dropping off to sleep beside him. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes fluttered for a few moments, then lay still. Smiling a fang-toothed smile, he nuzzled her forehead for a moment and grasped her tiny white hands in his own, letting his body relax against the mattress as the light in her skin began to redirect into him and dissolve his pain. It was akin to the feeling which humans must experience upon quenching deep thirst. He liked this fragile, tenuous relationship with Lydia. He didn't want to risk it. All the same, he knew that the girl was going to die someday, and if he couldn't get ahold of her soul then she would be of no further use to him. But this new development opened up new possibilities- Sebastian realized for the first time that Lydia might not turn on him, after all. Slowly, the demon began to think of a way to have his cake and eat it too. He was aware that he was beautiful, persuasive, and intriguing. He could be sweet if he needed to be. The trick would be simple. As Lydia grew up, he would make her attached to, even dependent upon him, while simultaneously encouraging her to dislike and think herself superior to other humans. The fact that she would have an exclusive contract with him, a powerful supernatural being, would probably help this process along. In this way, he could make his little master dark without turning her against him. Indeed, many humans before her had fallen prey to the enticing voices of beings like himself, convinced to 'love' the very thing that would one day drag them to hell. She trusted him. She wanted to please him- tonight had made that much obvious. He would stay by her side. He would whisper in her ear, softly pointing out the flaws and shortcoming of those whom she was supposed to 'love'- her mother, her father, and her brother, especially him- while all the while never allowing her to see the utter ugliness which lay behind his own beautiful mask. Lydia would soon care for him alone. He would do it cleverly, sweetly, quietly….and she would follow him willingly into the darkness. He would have one more to join him in the shadow of his eternal curse.

Outside the window of his new bedroom, the moon began to rise above the treeline. Surrounded by the false light which the moon emitted, Sebastian pressed his pale lips softly against the forehead of the sleeping child, imagining how that soul would taste…. Stirred slightly from her slumber, Lydia cracked her bright blue eyes open and peered up into the demon's face. Smiling a smile of childish affection, she tenderly hugged his right arm closer to her chest, where the heart beat, and dropped off to sleep again. For a long time, Sebastian stared hungrily at her tiny form as the moon rose higher in the sky. Eventually, he closed his eyes as well in imitation of sleep, petting the child's face gently and imagining that his black fingernails left smudges of burned soot up and down her perfect, glassine cheek.

**Wow, Sebastian...you're kind of evil. O.O**


	19. Stern Secrets

**Hi, everyone! I'm back! :D**

**Sorry it took me nearly a month to get this out. I had some problems while writing this chapter. My muse is struggling, and I don't know why. :( Hopefully this is a temporary thing!**

"Why on earth is this happening _now?_" Lydia moaned to the heavens as she lay sprawled upon the bed, pressing her burning head into the pillow as though it were a pack of ice. "Why couldn't I have gotten sick _before_ the funeral, so I wouldn't have had to go to it, and this entire debacle would never have happened?"

Sebastian murmured something unintelligible as he gently turned her over and pressed a cool cloth against her forehead. It was 2:00 in the morning, and the demon had been sleeping beside his master in cat form when he had sensed a change in her body's internal temperature. He had promptly awoken her and run a few rudimentary tests, and sure enough, a fully-fledged fever had blossomed within her. This coupled with the fact that she had been nearly murdered that afternoon meant that Lydia was not pleased at all.

"Perhaps it is for the best, master. There would be people out there intending to kill you regardless of whether you had gone to the funeral or not. At least now we know of their existence, so that we can plan to defeat them."

"Yes, but my being sick isn't going to help us defeat them." Lydia mumbled, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, bother it all. I'm going to take a cool bath. I feel sweaty and parched and I can't sleep, anyway." She rolled herself to the edge of the bed and slouched slowly toward the bathroom, Sebastian hovering at her side.

"May I recommend that you make the water slightly warm? If you immerse your body in cool water, you will start to shiver because of your fever."

"Sure," she nodded wanly, and Sebastian proceeded to begin to fill the porcelain-white bath with the appropriate temperature of water. He noted with concern that Lydia seemed only half-aware of her surroundings. Her head was nodding to the side, and her entire body seemed rather lackadaisical. He had to ask her three times if she wanted soap bubbles in the bathwater before she finally flopped her head in what he supposed was a gesture of assent.

"Here, master, you are not well. Let me…." Leaving the bath, Sebastian circled around her and began to unbutton the black mourning dress which clung stubbornly to her body.

"I'm not used to wearing great heavy fabrics like this," Lydia muttered, closing her eyes as the removal of her dress jostled her body. "When I'm tramping about in the woods, I usually wear breeches….I hardly ever come across other people, which is probably a good thing, because most are quite scandalized….hey there, what are you doing?"

"Assisting." Sebastian tilted his head to the side as she recoiled from his hands in alarm, the dress hanging down off her shoulders and exposing her under-petticoat.

"I can….certainly assist myself just fine, thank you!" she declared, flouncing the folds of her dress away from him.

Sebastian smiled in sly amusement. "I am not a human man, Lydia. And I have seen your unclothed body before."

"True, when you used to dress me as a little girl! It's changed quite a bit since then!" she protested indignantly, coloring up even more than a mere feverish tinge would imply.

"Has it?"

"_Don't look at it!"_ she practically shouted, throwing a towel over his head and pushing him toward the door. She seemed to have momentarily recovered her energy. "Out with you, you lech! Out! Out!"

Sebastian let the door slam in his face, then promptly reappeared in front of Lydia as she turned around. "I am afraid it would be irresponsible of me to allow you to bathe without supervision. In the state you're currently in, you could lose consciousness and drown. What would I do if I allowed such a thing to happen through my own carelessness?"

"You are absolutely not staying in this bathroom with me!" Lydia exclaimed, gripping the edges of the tub as he came closer, humming in amusement. She had the air of one giving a final war cry before a battle. The next second, they were both distracted by a sharp cracking sound. Sebastian tensed for a moment, but Lydia merely stared down at her right hand, which was now clutching a handful of the edge of the porcelain bathtub. Slowly, she rolled her head back in exasperation until she was nearly falling into the water. "Daaaaaaaamn…"

"I can fix it, master." Sebastian assured in a more subdued manner, his attention drawn back to the bandaged hand dangling out from underneath her black sleeve. After a moment, Lydia huffed and nodded.

"All right, all right. What we're going to do here is make a compromise. You will stay outside this room and sit near the door. I will keep the door halfway open so that you can hear me and verify that I haven't drowned. Fair enough?"

"Fair," he agreed, still staring at the arm, trying to detect any aberrations in its shape or size. It moved and looked exactly like a normal human appendage. He made up his mind to take a peek into the bathroom once she was in the tub, to see what it looked like with the bandages off. He had nearly forgotten about it over the events of the day, but now his curiosity was back in full force. He could not detect any demonic energy coming from it, but that arm was definitely not normal. This time, he stayed outside once he was herded out; he pulled a chair up against the wall directly beside the door and reclined in it, listening to the gentle rustle of fabrics and the timid footsteps of bare feet against a cold floor. The water splashed as Lydia dunked her body down into it. Sebastian listened closely to every sound, waiting for the ripples to stop washing against the sides of the tub. When all was quiet, he leaned his head in the doorway for a glance, quicker than the human eye could catch. Her wet brown hair was floating lazily around her chest. The lavender bubbles he had put in the bath concealed most of her body, but her arms dangled out on either side of the tub. He nearly fell off his chair when he realized that the bandages covering her right arm were still on. That girl-!

"Master, should you not take the bandages off of your arm?" he asked in exasperation.

"Can't." she replied placidly. Then, a moment later; "_Hey!_"

"You never ordered me not to look," he pointed out with a smug smirk that she could probably hear in his voice. The water splashed again.

"Sebastian, you- you evil thing- I ought to get some holy water and chase you right out of this manor! I _would _chase you if I had the energy! You'd better hope I don't recover soon!"

"Yes, master," he replied, unable to stop himself from laughing softly. He did not really fear holy water. It could harm him, but only if the antagonizing human actually managed to throw it on him, which was unlikely, considering how slow and uncoordinated humans were when compared with demons. Lydia probably knew this as well. Still, this was one of the many reasons why he preferred Lydia to her younger brother a thousand times over. She could let things go or take them in stride. There was room for playfulness in their relationship. Ciel would have had him writhing in agony if he had tried violating the boy's all-important personal space in such a bold way. "If it eases your mind, I did not see anything but your head and your arms, one of which is still bandaged. Why don't you take the bandages off to wash it properly?"

"This arm doesn't need to be washed," she grumbled cryptically, dunking said arm into the water. "And if I actually did take the bandages off, you'd understand why I shouldn't take them off."

"Do you ever remove them?"

"Sure, I can if I want to. But it wouldn't be a good idea to do it around you. Or around most people, for that matter. Particularly you."

"Why not?" Sebastian tilted his chair forward, listening intently. For a moment, there was silence.

"….It could hurt you. Because you're a demon. So if you ever get it in your head to try and yank the bandages off my arm like you did my glove that time….don't do it. I'm not exaggerating."

Water dripped from Lydia's hands back into the tub. Sebastian frowned. "_What _could hurt me?"

"It's not that it's a bad thing." Lydia chattered on. "It's actually very good, and I quite like it. It's helpful and pleasant. It's a gift- a _good_ one. But you wouldn't like it. It would cause you pain. As for humans, it's not dangerous to them, but I think most of them would be a fair bit alarmed. Humans are always alarmed by things that fail to be ordinary."

"Lydia, what is underneath your bandages?" Sebastian insisted, leaning his upper body back into the bathroom and staring at the arm that Lydia was rotating slowly in front of her face, seeming most content with its appearance.

She smiled and ran her finger over the swath of gauze. "It's _light._"

"Light?" Of all the things Sebastian had expected to hear, this wasn't one of them.

"Mmm-hmm. My entire arm is made up of light. It's quite amazing. But don't tell Ciel," she added quickly. "I really don't think he wants to talk about what happened that night, even though I didn't come out of it nearly as badly as he seems to think I did."

"….I am afraid I still do not understand, master. What do you mean by _light?_" Sebastian asked, staring unabashedly at the girl in the tub.

She splashed some water over her collarbone with her bandaged arm. "I mean light. Quite literally, light. Only it's not light from this world. It's not like sunlight or the light from a kerosene lantern. It's pretty indescribable, actually," she murmured, closing her eyes as her body floated in the water. "The best I can do would be to say….that it's very golden….and it doesn't hurt one's eyes to look into it. And when it becomes visible- when I take the bandages off….well, that's the indescribable part, really. The light has _power._ It's not my power, but somehow the rest of my body is able to support it."

Sebastian was disturbed at this description. "But we both know that light is not a solid substance, and your arm is clearly made up of solid matter. You can grasp things and push against them with it. It is-"

"Hah, and this coming from the evil spirit who's technically made out of poisoned darkness? You're pretty solid as well." Lydia pointed out with a wry smile.

Sebastian blinked. "But, master- I _am_ a spirit, as you said. I have the power to take corporeal form, but I have never been anything but a spirit. You are a human. It is different."

"Well, don't ask me how it happened." Lydia shrugged, and began to lather her hair with scented soap. Sebastian was now standing fully inside the bathroom again, staring at her in confusion.

"You mean you don't know how it happened?" he demanded incredulously.

"I know what happened, but not how. To be honest, I'm not even entirely sure that I still have an arm of flesh and blood underneath the light. I might have lost it on that night. But it's not really important."

Sebastian threw his hands up in the air in utter consternation. "How can you _not know_ whether or not you lost your arm? And why it is not important?"

The bubbles in the bathwater were beginning to dissipate, and Lydia gathered the remnants to her chest to preserve her modesty. Her pale legs flashed through the water as she adjusted them against the opposite end of the tub. "Honestly, that's not the important part. I imagine that I'll never be able to fully understand as long as I'm a part of this world. This light-arm is a gift from the higher world, but despite its invulnerability, I'm still a mortal human. There are many things that mortals cannot understand about the spiritual ways of Heaven and hell until we get there. Our earthly minds lack the ability to comprehend such places and their effects on our beings." She paused, and sunk down lower in the bath. "Now will you get out of here?"

Sebastian's curiosity was not satisfied, however. He stared at the bandaged limb closely. "Are you sure I cannot be permitted to move the gauze coverings back for a moment to take a look?"

"I am very sure that you really don't want to do that. I don't know what would happen to you. Being connected to me _might_ give you special protection from the light, but I'm not sure of that at all. We shouldn't risk it now, especially for no good reason. If you're just like every other demon I've met, you won't be able to stand direct exposure."

"But the- _what?_ _Every other demon you've met?_" Sebastian demanded, his attention re-directing with alarming rapidity. His red eyes narrowed at the thought of another demon approaching his master. Demons were selfish and territorial creatures, highly sensitive toward others imposing upon what they saw as theirs. Their very nature as evil spirits meant that they saw the world through the burning smoke of hatred. They hated The Named, they hated angels, they hated humans, and they hated each other, even as they were forced to work together toward a common goal. Sebastian had always found that being in the vicinity of other damned creatures similar to himself was rather like being yoked at the neck; irritating, confining, and highly unpleasant. The thought of one of them basking in his master's light was even more maddening.

Lydia sensed the change in the atmosphere, curling her legs up underneath her and gliding to the rim of the tub. Soap dripped down from her hair, and she shaded her eyes to keep it out. "Don't worry, Sebastian. It's not as though I've been keeping company with them, at any rate. But a soul like mine does tend to attract them occasionally when I'm out in the world. There've been a few incidents, that's all. Sometimes they end quite amusingly…."

"If you had my mark on you, they wouldn't come near you." Sebastian growled angrily, approaching the tub and kneeling down beside the rim in a flash of black. Her flippant attitude made him want to lift her out of the tub and shake her. He gripped either side of his master's face with black-tipped hands, staring into the eye that should have borne the mark of the covenant. It was clear and blue, and this infuriated him. "And that's not all. I was able to save you today because you were right in front of me when danger struck. But what if I hadn't been there? Without the covenant, you cannot call for me. I cannot sense when you are in danger. I cannot find you if you should go missing. Your life is at risk every day, every time you leave this manor. Anything could happen- an accident, an attack- and you would die just like the countless pathetic humans who die every day, crushed by the follies of the world. Is that what you want, do you want to die? Your right arm may be indestructible, but the rest of your body is still soft and vital flesh. Death will be your lot if you continue to refuse me!" Sebastian loomed over the girl, jabbing the flesh of her shoulder harshly with a pointed finger. She needn't have bothered trying to hide her breasts. He knew her through and through, because she was his, just as much as he was hers. She just needed to stop dreaming and acknowledge it.

She stared at him with eyes like the flat surface of a building. "I will not take the contract. I cannot allow you to be attached to me in that way."

"You scorn me," he told her, deciding to play on guilt- Lydia had always been very susceptible to that. "I have done everything for you. I have kept you alive and served you faithfully-"

"You're a demon- you don't know the meaning of faithful!" she defended, gathering herself at the bottom of the tub. "You always serve your own interests first. You were planning to eat my soul when I was only a child!"

"It was the most productive option available to me at the time." Sebastian remarked casually, tilting his head and softly touching the side of his hip where the mark was. "It is no longer. I thought you would understand that that plan has since been abandoned."

"It doesn't excuse you for planning it in the first place," Lydia shot back. "As if I'd care about your idea of 'productivity' while my soul was being dragged to hell and devoured! You were trying to corrupt me so that you could take it. I don't call that faithful."

"Master, you are holding me to human standards of morality," Sebastian purred, leaning over the bathtub and bringing his face only inches away from her own. "But I am a demon. I have my aesthetics, and that is all."

"And that's exactly why you're not putting your mark anywhere on me," Lydia declared, trying to push his hands away from her face. He frowned.

"You are wrong, master. My aesthetics compel me to protect you and cater to your every order. Your best interests are my best interests. I could serve you completely if you would just take the mark." Sebastian laid his hand along the border of her left eye. With his thumb, he gently pushed the eyelid shut. "Take the mark. It will not hurt. I promise I will make it quite painless. Master…."

"And what about Ciel, was it painless for him?" she queried breathlessly, placing her right hand against his chest and pushing him slowly back. The urge to rip off a corner of her bandages arose in Sebastian's mind, but he pushed it aside. He was on a different mission tonight.

"Naturally, it was not. He forced me to give him the mark. He bound me. I fought him with all my strength, and for that, he has always hated me. But you, you don't hate me, do you?" he breathed airily, turning up his face so his beautiful features would catch the light. He was closing in now; she was tired, sick, weak. Just a little more pressure, and she would give him what he wanted.

"I've never hated you," she murmured seriously, gazing right into his eyes. "But Ciel was a child forced into circumstances too demanding for him. He was made to take the contract by his elders; grandfather, and Vincent. Then he was given the company and the title upon Vincent's death. Who gives a company to a ten-year-old? The responsibilities he must have had to assume! No doubt you've been of great assistance in that area, Sebastian….but Ciel is not your antagonist. He's just a boy following blindly after the ones who came before him. It's just bad luck that those ones happened to be Phantomhives."

Sebastian frowned again. She could tell him Ciel was not his enemy after she'd gone through the years of torment that he'd had to endure. Regardless, Sebastian did not want to talk about Ciel, anyway. He wanted to talk about Lydia and himself, about the contract and new arrangements to be made. He slipped his hand in between the bandaged fingers that lay on his chest. "Master, you are the one I was intended to serve. The contract was disfigured in order to give your brother power over me." He squeezed her hand intensely. "I want what I was promised."

"You'll simply have to do without me," she determined in a faint voice, tilting her head to the side. "I will be here at the manor as often as I can manage. I will share my light with you. I will ensure that you are given due consideration as a sentient being that should not be tortured. But I can never fill the role of your contractual master. I have too many other roles which I must rise to meet in my life-some of which I have been sorely neglecting."

"Am I such a burden that I would only hinder your pursuit of these roles?" Sebastian demanded lowly, his eyes flashing like glowing embers. "Have you never considered that I could aid you to meet them faster? I am a demon. I can do things which you cannot."

Lydia nodded, bringing her other hand to her head and watching as a beaded trail of water spilled down her temple. She looked like she would fall asleep at any moment. "I understand your sentiments. But only a human can do what I have been called to do. Sometimes, things- things not only have to be done, they have to be done _right._ It wouldn't be right if I accepted a contract with a demon."

"Because you're following the voice of _the Named?_" The accusation was blunt, swift. Lydia didn't deny it, although Sebastian desperately wanted her to. He squeezed her rock-hard hand until he would have broken the fingers if it had been a normal appendage. "I can give you anything. Anything you want, master. I can save your life."

"You didn't give me life," she declared, pulling her hand away from him. "You didn't make me."

"Silly, foolish human! The one who made you allowed you to suffer!" Sebastian growled, leaning toward her. "I was there to save you from that suffering. Each time your life was almost taken, I gave it back to you. All I asked in return was to be treated fairly, but instead you left me here!"

"Because you were trying to eat my soul!"

"No, because the Named told you to leave, and you just _believed_ him." Sebastian rolled his eyes, unable to wrap his mind around such baseless human naivety. "Anyway, I've already told you- I disavow that."

"Only because you think you've found a better use for me now that I'm a _magna shalom._ I know very well that the only one you really care for is yourself. Demons have no true loyalty."

"What would you have me do?" the demon demanded. "Humans are plentiful creatures crawling across the surface of this world. Most are quite meaningless. And I need to consume souls. I'll starve without them." He brushed his hair out of his eyes in frustration. "I have never pretended to be a noble being. I am not going to starve myself simply to avoid causing weaker beings pain. And they're already dead when I devour them, anyway. It's not as if they could be spared."

"But you corrupt their souls while they're alive-"

"So that I can eat them after they die, yes, yes! I would have nothing to eat if I didn't prepare my meals beforehand."

Lydia slid back down in the tub, dropping the end of her soapy hair back into the water. She sighed lowly. "Have you ever….tried just eating human food? Or drinking water?"

Sebastian snorted, standing up and reclining against the edge of the porcelain tub, his back to the naked girl. "Master, I was in this world when it began. I have spent the majority of my immortal lifespan here. Of course I have tried eating human food. I do have a streak of curiosity in me."

"And what happens when you do?" Lydia's voice inquired liltingly. Sebastian's red eyes flared.

"It turns to ash in my mouth. It is quite unpleasant," he murmured bitterly. "You humans lead lives of luxurious ease when it comes to obtaining food. You can just walk out into a forest and pick some apples. You spend about seventeen years of your lives being fed by your parents in return for nothing at all. Demons have to spend entire lifetimes preparing souls for which to feast upon. Not only that, we have to guard them every step of the way, for even in their last living moments there is still a chance that they could slip out of our grasp. If we fail, we starve. There are no charities or philanthropic nobles to feed us- no mercy. We can steal souls, of course, shoddy things which haven't been prepared beforehand- that's why so many demons spend their time hovering over battlefields. But such souls do nothing for us but keep us from the ragged edge. The hunger remains." Sebastian stared out across the white-tiled room with dull eyes. He thought about turning around, but figured that such an act would probably get him thrown out of the room now that all the bubbles were gone from the bathwater.

"Are you hungry right now?"

The question surprised him for some reason. "Not terribly," he declared smugly, smirking at the darkness outside the window. "I have just had a meal."

"….Oh. Right."

Lydia began to pour water over her soapy head as Sebastian closed his eyes, feeling deep within himself to the part in which _that soul_ was located. _He_ wanted water. He was desperate, mad for water. Sadistically, the demon allowed him to listen to the sound of water pouring down from the mortal world, knowing he could never, never obtain it. Each splash was a new wave of torture for that soul, and Sebastian relished the cries. Completely oblivious, Lydia continued to immerse her hair in the bathtub, rivulets of water running down her skin and dripping from her face. It was a while until she spoke again. "….Sebastian?"

"Yes, master?"

"When you eat a soul, does it just….disappear?"

"What kind of question is that, master? You already know that souls do not simply cease to exist."

"Yes, but….well then….okay."

"What do you want to know?" the demon called languidly over his shoulder.

"Well, is he, um….does that mean he's….still inside you….somehow?"

"Yes, master."

"I thought you said he was in hell!" she protested. Sebastian turned around enough to see her face.

"He is in hell. And he is in me. I carry hell within me, Lydia. We demons are the gateway. That is why I burn."

"Oh." The water was still now. "Well, I really have no idea what to say to that." Her face was shadowed, bearing trouble like a heavy load.

"I could let you speak to him…." Sebastian trailed off, and for a moment Lydia really did look like she was going to faint. "But I do not think master would like that."

"No, no." Lydia shook her head vividly, spraying water droplets onto the floor. "That would be _bizarre._ And terrifying. Also….it wouldn't do him any good. It's too late for him now. 'Slike a stillborn child- something no one can help." She looked up suddenly. "He can't hear us, can he?"

"Not unless I allow him to." Sebastian decided not to mention that he'd been doing just that a few moments ago in order to torment the soul. Lydia stared back down at the water.

"Bizarre," she muttered again, reaching out a hand to lightly touch the side of his chest. "….Vincent in there, too?"

"I did not have a contract with your mother's husband. He is in hell, however."

"Is it all right for you to be telling me these things?" Lydia asked, tilting her head to the side. "Isn't this like….some sort of breach of secrecy or something? If most humans knew the truth about the afterlife, there wouldn't be nearly as much sin and cruelty in the world…."

"Most humans will not know. Most humans will not believe, no matter who tells it to them. And many of the ones that do believe will fool themselves into thinking the laws do not apply to them. We will get many souls, no matter what is said or done on earth. It is the inevitable consequence of freedom of choice." The demon sighed, hunching his shoulders forward. "Anyway, I can say whatever I want. It is the end of the day, and I am tired."

"Go, so I can finish washing." Lydia commanded suddenly. Surprised, Sebastian obeyed without argument. He closed the door to the bathroom gently (he could hear perfectly well through it, anyway,) and slid slowly down the wall to the floor, curling up against the doorframe like a cat. His head ached slightly. He thought about all of the souls inside of him, and placed a gentle hand over the beginning of his ribcage, where she had touched him. Lydia was the first and only human to ever question him about matters such as this. The demon scoffed quietly to himself. And she thought that he was _bizarre._

**There! I hope that was okay. I was kind of worried that this chapter would be boring, due to the fact that it's basically one long conversation between Sebastian and Lydia...with a bubble bath involved. XD But I also felt that we needed to get some things established in this story, so...yeah! Honestly, with some of the things I think of, I swear there must be something wrong with my brain. :P But hopefully it's interesting!**

**The next chapter will have more action. I hope it will come to me more easily than this one did... Perhaps reviews would help? :D**

**See you next time!**


	20. Not Until The Last Moment

**Hey guys, I'm back with an Easter present for you- a new chapter! :) Yes, my muse has still been having difficulties, and it's made me a terribly slow updater. However, I think I might have finally figured out where the plot is going, at least for now. So happy Easter to everyone, and I hope to be posting another chapter soon! Thanks for sticking with me.**

The next day, a sealed chest arrived on the back doorstep of Phantomhive manor.

Ciel was used to the arrival of shipments at the manor, but this one he had not ordered. He strode to the back of the manor and watched as Sebastian and Bard assisted the older manservant in unloading it from the back of a sturdy cart. It was neatly wrapped in packing cloth and held together with twine. Its mysterious appearance unsettled him. The manservant had travelled from his grandfather's estate, but the chest was from his grandmother. It was not for Ciel, but rather for Lydia. The note which had come along with it explained in his grandmother's handwriting (it jarred him a little to see the script of her long-dead hand on paper once again,) that she had prepared the chest before her death and entrusted it to her most faithful manservant, who had been instructed to deliver it upon her husband's death. The letter stipulated that only Lydia be allowed to open the chest initially, and insisted that she must be alone in the room when she did so. This gave Ciel an odd feeling of mixed curiosity and foreboding. At the moment, Lydia was lying abed upstairs, trying to recover from her fever and probably quite unaware that another mysterious piece of her inheritance had found her. Ciel decided to have Sebastian carry the chest into her room and let her sleep. A small, insistent part of his mind wanted to crack the chest open himself, but it would be far beneath his honor to disregard the wishes of his grandmother and infringe upon his sister's privacy. Right now he had more pressing things to occupy him, anyway.

/

When Lydia awoke next, there were two concerned faces looming above her which she had not expected to be there. For a moment she lay quite still, blinking up at them in confusion. "Father? Aunt Angeli-"

"Thank goodness." Fred Aberlaine exclaimed lowly as Madame Red breathed a sigh of relief. Her aunt was holding a cool cloth to her forehead. Lydia's eyes were blurry, and the light in the room seemed rather frail.

"You're all right," she murmured softly, scooting herself upward in bed a little and staring directly at her father. "How did you get here?"

"After I got off the phone with you, I was just about to leave the house and take refuge at Thoms's lodgings- I was going to ride out here with him in the morning- when your aunt showed up at my door with her carriage behind her. She thought we'd both be better off at the manor as soon as possible, so we could offer our assistance directly. We rode through the night and made it here by seven o'clock." The red-haired man doffed his hat to the equally red-haired lady beside him. Lydia noticed that they both looked rather sleep-deprived.

"Thank you," she said to her aunt, feeling that she would have gathered them both in her arms and hugged them if she'd had the strength. It was so much less frightening to have them right in front of her, where she could be sure that they were safe. "I was so worried-!"

"You couldn't have been nearly as worried as we were!" Madame Red protested, sponging off her niece's forehead with the cloth. "First we heard that you'd nearly been murdered at the funeral, and then we arrived at the manor to find you collapsed with fever! And apparently the basement also caved in while you and Ciel were down there a few days ago-"

"What? I didn't hear about that!" Aberlaine exclaimed, straightening upright in concern. "When did this happen?"

"Ciel told me that Sebastian let his powers spiral out of control-"

"Sebastian collapsed the basement on top of you?" her father demanded, looking angry as she hardly ever saw him. Lydia heaved herself up in bed with great effort, determined to halt this train of misunderstanding.

"No, father, no! Sebastian did _not_ collapse the basement on top of me. He pulled Ciel and I out of there before the ceiling caved in. It is true that he cracked the foundation with his powers, but it was only because he was in so much pain that he lost control of them. That's why I was down there….I was trying to help him get free. And then later on, in front of the Church, he saved my life….so please don't blame Sebastian for these occurrences." Lydia sank back under the covers as Madame Red went to open a window and let in some stronger light.

Her father huffed, seeming grudgingly placated. "In any case, it would seem that you've been involved in a great many dangerous situations lately."

The brown-haired girl smiled wanly. "When have I ever not been involved in dangerous situations?"

"Well, I'd like for it to _stop._" Aberlaine declared firmly. "That's why I'm here. We need to outwit these money-hunting relatives of yours and make sure that they never try to harm you again."

"Hear, hear!" Madame Red concurred, coming to sit down at Lydia's bedside again. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. After a pause, a white-gloved hand pushed it open and the sleek black figure of Sebastian bowed to the room's inhabitants.

"Master, I am glad to see that you are awake. Do you feel strong enough to eat a bit of lunch?"

Lydia blinked at him in bemusement. "Lunch? What time is it?"

"It is eleven-thirty, master. You had a rather restless night last night, so I decided that you should sleep in."

Lydia eased herself upward, imagining how outraged her father would be if he found out that Sebastian had dared to come into her bathroom while she was bathing. She decided to let that one lie in the interest of preserving the peace. "In that case, I- what is that?" She pointed to a rather ornate wooden chest that was sitting at the foot of her bed, packing wrappers scattered underneath its carved feet. That definitely had not been there last night, or she would have tripped over it.

The demon stared at it with an unreadable expression. "It was delivered for you this morning. It is from your grandmother's estate."

"Is it really? What's in it?" the brown-haired girl exclaimed, leaning on her father's arm as she placed her feet upon the floor and tried her luck at standing. She still felt rather dizzy, so she walked over to the chest quickly and kneeled down. She raised her eyebrow worriedly. "Is it part of the will?"

"Pardon me, master, but no one has yet opened it. The letter which arrived with it gave specific instructions that no one but yourself should be allowed to look inside, and that you must be alone in the room when first doing so." Sebastian intoned softly, gazing directly at Lydia as she surveyed the chest.

She tilted her head in confusion. "Did my grandmother give a reason?"

"She did not."

"….Bother."

"Are we sure that it's not anything dangerous?" Aberlaine asked, looking to Sebastian for clarification.

The demon shook his head. "There is no darkness emitting from this chest. Whatever its contents are, they are material in nature and entirely stationary." He moved a step closer to Lydia. "Will you be wanting to open it, then, master?"

"I suppose so," she mumbled, fingering the lock gingerly. "I don't imagine I'll be able to focus on anything else, what with mysterious boxes showing up in my room and that."

"In that case, please allow me to escort our other guests downstairs to lunch. You may join them when you are through." Sebastian inclined his head toward her father and Madame Red, who stood up reluctantly and slowly retreated toward the door. Lydia fought through a moment of wanting to call them back, no matter what her grandmother's note had said. She didn't want to face whatever ghosts lay within the large chest on her own.

"Master." Lydia glanced up as Sebastian slipped her the key. "I will be just down the hall." He bowed again and followed her relatives out the door, and all too quickly, Lydia found herself alone with the chest. She stared at it as if it were an opponent she was trying to outwit. She peered through the keyhole and saw darkness. She rapped her knuckles against the lid, and jumped backward when she thought she heard something stir inside. The window was still open, making her feel cold and unprotected as she crept closer to the strange chest once again. Sebastian had said that it was harmless, and it would be completely out of character for him to allow something like this near her without being certain of its safety. Even so, with all of these things that were happening…. Lydia slipped two fingers underneath a stretch of the bandages on her right arm and worked them loose, preparing herself to tear them off entirely if anything unfortunate occurred. With her other arm, she gingerly unlocked the heavy padlock and let it clang against the floor. With a burst of courage, she threw the lid back and braced her right arm in front of her face protectively.

Nothing happened, or at least, nothing jumped out at her. Still holding her arm out, Lydia leaned over the chest and peered inside. She saw linen. Lots of linen. Some of it was shining, indicating that it was worked silk. She saw gold tassels and broaches, delicate filigree boxes, and what looked to be a collection of glass fountain pens. She saw nothing to indicate why her grandmother had been so insistent that she open this chest in secrecy. Lydia began to dig carefully through the chest's contents, lifting them out one by one and arranging them on the carpet around her. On the wooden bottom, she uncovered an envelope with her name written on it in elegant cursive script. She lifted it out and slipped a finger underneath the margin, tearing the top away until she could reach what was inside.

/

Leaning carefully against the wall in the hallway, Sebastian was not particularly surprised to hear Lydia's voice call loudly to him from the bedroom. He glided over to the door immediately, and opened it to see the brown-haired girl kneeling amid a melee of objects, clutching at an ink-heavy piece of parchment with both hands. He inclined his head somberly. "Well, master?"

"This." Lydia waved the parchment in the air. "It says-"

"I am sure that I already know what it says, master. Your grandmother was a rather predictable woman." Sebastian flicked his red eyes at the paper nonchalantly.

Lydia gestured furiously for him to keep his voice down. "Get in here! And close the door!" she whispered, and the demon complied. He sidestepped the stacks of linens and boxes and came to kneel beside his master on the carpet. She was gazing deeply at the paper again. "….This is no surprise to me, of course. I already knew about all this from my parents, and I guess grandmother knew that I knew. This letter is basically appealing to me to make sure Ciel doesn't find out…." She paused suddenly, staring straight ahead past the wall, past the forest and the sky, out toward something Sebastian could not see. "_Oh…._" Her eyes widened a little, then settled again. "I understand." Abruptly, she threw her head back and laughed, a noise which was not entirely bitter, but was certainly not sweet. "I understand! It makes sense now! And to think I was so confused too, almost ready to believe…. Ah, ha ha…. I must be truly stupid."

"You only found out about your grandmother's will yesterday. You are hardly stupid." Sebastian murmured, somewhat relieved that Lydia seemed to have figured it out now that her fever had gone down.

She snorted and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I should have known it the moment I read that document. Why would grandmother leave me anything? She wasn't trying to make up to me, she was trying to pay me off, to make sure I'd never tell Ciel the truth…. It all makes sense now. Of course it does." She glanced sideways at him out of the corner of her eye. "You knew, didn't you? But you weren't going to tell me. Not until the last moment."

"I thought it best not to disturb your period of illness with more sour news," the demon said quietly.

Lydia nodded, accepting this, and looked back down at the letter. "I'm almost insulted. As if I would have told Ciel, anyway! It's as though I were some unscrupulous street urchin, too lowly to recognize any good but money. Then again, that _is_ what she thought of me, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised…."

Sebastian was waiting for the inevitable question. Lydia did not ask it right away. Instead she began piling things back into the chest with significantly less care than she had taken them out. Linens and silks tangled together, boxes fell open and spilled their delicate contents, and precious broaches disappeared into the darkness until the only thing left out was the letter. Lydia banged the lid shut and fumbled with the lock again. "I meant to ask you after the funeral yesterday, but with everything that happened, I forgot." She lowered her hands from the chest and looked at him steadily. "Does he know, Sebastian? Have you told him?" The demon shook his head solemnly. Lydia tilted her own. "Why? Was it because of my mother's orders?"

A fanged half-smile stretched out across his pale lips. "No. I have kept the secret of my own volition. Master, are you familiar with the phrase 'shoot the messenger'?"

"Yes."

"Then you will understand why I did not wish to incur your brother's wrath against me by being the one to deliver such discomfiting information to him."

"Ah. I suppose I can see that." Lydia sighed a faint sigh of relief, then stood up swiftly. "Well, then. You must never tell him. That is an order, do you understand?"

"Of course, master." Sebastian purred, standing up also to offer her his arm in case she swayed. "Now that you're here, it doesn't really matter anyway…."

"It would matter to him." Lydia asserted gravely.

"….Although I must admit, I would like to see that arrogant little runt knocked down a peg."

"Don't talk about my brother that way." Lydia ordered, making her way over to the fireplace. "And don't you even think about doing any knocking-down, Sebastian. I don't care how you feel about Ciel personally. The truth would destroy his sense of who he is. That's all he's had to hold onto throughout these many years."

"Yes, master." Sebastian bowed gracefully, and Lydia sighed, staring into the low flames in the hearth.

"Well now, I suppose there's only one thing left to do…." She ran a pensive finger over the length of the letter's spine, its contents filling her face. A moment later, she tossed it swiftly into the flames. Both demon and human watched as the fiery tendrils roped themselves around the missive and ate it up, until all that remained were curdled ashes. Lydia turned away. "I'll change my clothes now and go down to lunch. Sebastian, please do something with that chest."

"Where would master like me to put it?"

"I don't care. Anywhere. Down in the basement," the young girl decreed, slipping out of sight behind the changing screen. She did not look back at either the chest or the demon beside it. Sebastian knew instinctively that she was hiding her face on purpose.

/

When Lydia came downstairs to lunch, Ciel could immediately sense that something was amiss in her face. He suspected that Aberlaine could sense it too, for the father and daughter exchanged a steady glance before she sat down. Even Madame Red was looking their way, and Sebastian, following silently behind his sister, had the same impenetrable expression on his face as always. Ciel could not help feeling rather left out of the situation. As Lydia took her seat and Sebastian filled her teacup, the young heir raised his eyebrow and demanded, "Well? What about the chest, then?"

Lydia shook her head slowly. "It was full of linens….and things. Silks, broaches, jewelry boxes, and the like. I had Sebastian put it away into storage." Ciel noted that she seemed even less excited about this than she had been regarding the discovery of her inheritance yesterday. But that wasn't the only puzzling thing….

"To be frank, it seems….rather uncharacteristic of her. But perhaps she was truly trying to make up to you. Perhaps she had a change of heart," he suggested courteously.

Lydia shook her head again, even more slowly. She did not seem to be aware that there was food on the plate in front of her. "I do not think so." There was a brief, encompassing pause, in which Ciel got the impression that everyone at the table was trying to avoid the eyes of everyone else. "Father, have you spoken to anyone at my school?"

"I have, and I've brought your texts and papers here as well, so you won't fall behind. They were rather curious as to what you're up to, I do say….but I think I managed to throw them off. We'll have to talk about that later, so we can make sure our stories match for when you return." Aberlaine sat up straighter in his chair, running a hand through his unruly red hair. "For now, I want you to hear about what Ciel's just told me. According to him, the sooner you receive your inheritance from your grandmother, the safer you'll be."

"Right now, all of the value of grandmother's last will and testament is still in her name, which means that the clause stipulating that your share of it will go to our other relatives if you die is still in effect." Ciel chimed in, placing his fork back on the tabletop. "However, once the will is validated and processed legally, your percentage of it will be put down in your name. As soon as that happens, you can write a will for yourself, leaving your inheritance to whomever you wish in the event of your death. Therefore, even if our lovely relatives did manage to murder you- which they _won't_- but if they did, they would gain nothing from it but the wrath of our house upon them. Once you file your will, you should be safe."

"Ciel has sent Sebastian this morning to London to file your grandmother's will at a legal office. I've contacted Scotland Yard and filled them in on the information Sebastian obtained about the two gunmen atop the Church yesterday." Aberlaine continued as Lydia nodded seriously.

"The office has been given strict instructions to go about processing the will as quickly as possible if they wish to remain in the good graces of the Phantomhive household." Ciel declared, twisting the bright blue ring upon his thumb.

"Once they hear of it, your other relatives will probably try to hold up the process by filing complaints on the matter. Unfortunately, they have the right to do so, since they are also beneficiaries of the will. The complaints are required to be substantiated, but the legal office will have to go through an investigation process to determine whether they are or not. That being said…."

"They will doubtless try to cheat the process." Ciel intoned flatly, now speaking to the whole table. "They will lie; they will invent evidence; they will tell wild stories in order to stall for time. We must expect these tactics. But I do not intend to play by the rules either, and we are the ones with a demon as a pawn."

An ominous silence followed this announcement. Ciel broke it by glancing over at Aberlaine. "Anything else that we need to consider?" he asked, and the man shook his head in the same slow way his daughter did. There was another parturient pause, and then everyone resumed eating, even Lydia. The quiet lay still all around them; even Madame Red was being strangely untalkative this afternoon. Ciel could sense the uneasiness that seemed to thin the air. He was not immune to it. He knew his aunt through and through, and he was gradually getting used to Lydia, but it was positively awkward to be exchanging conversation with her father, of all people. He had not seen Fred Aberlaine for many years, and he had barely known him back when he had seen him; but it wasn't just that. Ciel honestly had no idea what to say to the man who had fallen in love with his mother, suffered through having her taken away from him and forced into an arranged marriage with another, and then continued to maintain an undercover and highly scandalous relationship with her until her untimely death, one which had driven his own father mad with possessive jealousy. Ciel had no lingering doubts about which man his mother's heart had truly belonged to, and it made him think uncomfortably of the Undertaker's brazen words once again. But Aberlaine had made his mother happy during her too-short life, and it was for this reason that Ciel could sit next to him at the table in his own manor and feel no anger, although he had probably felt more destabilized this morning than he could remember feeling in years.

"How can I help?" Lydia asked once they had finished eating. The downcast sheen had gone from her eyes, although the circles remained and her face was still overly flushed.

Her father gave her a quick glance-over. "I don't think you ought to be throwing yourself into the fray just yet. You're still weak. You should rest and recover…."

"Yes, but all this trouble is because of me in the first place-"

"Aberlaine is right." Ciel concurred. "You should rest until you've passed out of your illness completely. I will make sure that the servants do not disturb you, injure you, or throw another chicken into your room. But as soon as you feel recovered, please report to my office immediately. Sebastian and I have rather a lot of work to do with you."

"What work?" Lydia inquired interestedly, as Sebastian perked up behind her.

Ciel steepled his fingers above the table and leaned forward. "Listen; the process of validating this will is going to require a several public appearances from you. You'll have to go with me to the legal office and present yourself to a mediator who specializes in these sorts of cases. We will also be required to gather with other members of the family in order to hear the will read aloud and put forward any concerns that we might have. Given that the majority of the money in the will is not for them, there will be many concerns from the rest of the beneficiaries. Added to the issue of your immediate safety, I feel that this process would be most likely to lean in our favor if you were able to present yourself as a true member of the Phantomhive family."

Lydia slowly covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh dear."

"I want to dress her!" Madame Red squealed, nearly whacking Aberlaine in the face as her hand shot up in the air like a schoolgirl. Lydia looked even more alarmed.

"I will have Sebastian instruct you on the myriad of things you will need to know in order for this process to go smoothly, from your conversation to your physical….mannerisms." Ciel declared, eyeing his older sister's lackadaisically slouching shoulders and half-lidded eyes. "During these meetings, we will have the opportunity to closely observe our list of possible suspects. Every word we speak to them must be carefully calculated. Aside from that, it would be beneficial if you were able to ensure your own safety as much as possible. We are dealing with people who have a vast amount of resources at their disposal and no interest in following conventional laws. In order to keep away from their schemes, you will need to know about the laws of the underworld. To that end, I will be your instructor."

He laid his hands on the table, looking about the room and taking stock of his human resources. Aside from Sebastian, they all looked as though they were not quite sure what was going on; but then, he'd had to make do with far less competent partners in the past. "So," he finished authoritatively, glancing out the window at the dense forest which would eventually give way to London, "this is how it shall be for us."


	21. Practice

**Well, once again, I've found my way back to this story. :) I'm going to try to pound out a couple more chapters in the weeks ahead before I get distracted by something shiny. Reviews would help me stay focused! **

**Unrelated to anything: I went to an anime convention last weekend with some friends in order to sell my origami art. While I was there, I saw SO MANY cosplayers from Kuroshitsuji. They were all really good, too! One Ciel/Sebastian pair even re-enacted the scene where Sebastian was trying to teach Ciel to dance. Hilarity ensued. XD**

**Now, on with the story! **

"I'm really not sure this is a good idea."

"Master, I assure you that no one has yet died from this sort of practice."

"Well, no, I don't think I'm going to _die._ That would be a little too dramatic. But I am going to get a splitting headache, you'll see…."

"You will also greatly improve your posture if you can learn to carry this bearing naturally."

"And what proof do you have that this actually helps improve bad posture? How do you know it isn't just a silly practice from a long-ago era? That's what it seems like to me."

"Master, if you focus more on your complaining than you do on your carriage, the books are going to keep tilting regardless of how 'proven' this method is."

Lydia huffed and reached up to push the topmost book back onto the pile that was currently stacked on her head. She glared down at the line on the ground which she was trying to walk on. "I think you're just doing this to make me look stupid."

"Master…."

"All right, all right," she grumbled, steeling herself for another attempt. "Here goes disaster." Pulling her back up into a ramrod straight position, she flattened her shoulders back and attempted to walk down the line which ran past the bay windows of the sitting room. She could not help but feel that her sense of balance was completely off. Whenever the books tilted, she had to re-adjust her whole body to keep them from teetering off her head. In the end, this resulted in a weird, swaying side-to-side gait which was very different from the straight-backed, dignified posture they were trying to achieve. Lydia didn't even want to think about how she must look at the moment. Drunken, probably.

Trying to stare straight ahead, Lydia did not gauge the distance of the carpet approaching her feet. One moment she was wobbling along; the next moment her big toe had hitched on the rug and she staggered forward, a cascade of books tumbling down in front of her eyes. The moment after that, a wall of black loomed ahead of her and Lydia found her face ungracefully smushed into the chest of Sebastian's swallowtail jacket. The demon propped her up and handed her the books which had been in the air a moment ago, now neatly stacked and (she couldn't help but notice with a grimace,) alphabetized as well.

Sebastian grimaced as well, and led her back to the starting point. "It seems unthinkable, master, but I do believe that your walking skills are rival only to your brother's dancing skills in terms of their sheer catastrophic nature."

"I do not have _bad walking skills,_" Lydia argued, glaring down at the books in her arms. "I'm just not used to walking with books on my head, that's all. Who does that, anyway? That's not what literature is for. This is why I say this practice is ridiculous."

"There are women in India who can walk while balancing full jugs of water on their heads, and without spilling a drop."

"Well, those women must be magical. I have no idea how they do that." Lydia straightened up and prepared to try again, even while knowing she would fail.

"Wait, master. Let us try a slower approach." Sebastian took the books out of her gloved hands and stepped behind her, placing the stack on the center of her brown head. "Now hold your arms out to the sides. Higher. Good."

"You realize this is just going to make it harder….?"

"Please trust me," he murmured, and spread his arms out as well, eclipsing each of her palms with his larger hands. "Now, lean your back very slightly against my chest. Not so much that you would fall over if I were to step away….just a little…."

Lydia did as he asked, and felt the weight of the books on her spine dissipate. His fingers were long and slightly clawed at the moment. She rubbed her thumb curiously against one of his black claws. His chest did not move in and out with breath, but she could feel it rumble gently as he spoke, bending his head down over her ear. "Good…. Now, walk straight ahead, and I shall steady you."

Lydia took a breath and stepped forward, keeping the air collected in the upper part of her chest and her back ramrod straight. The demon's body was as strong as iron, but as lithe and graceful as a tender shoot of grass. Together they moved elegantly across the room, and to Lydia's great surprise, the books stayed firmly attached to her head the whole way. When they reached the carpet, she could not help but laugh. "We did it!"

"All that fuss, and now she's happy," Sebastian murmured lowly. Lydia could not see his face, but she could bet that he was smiling in amusement. "You see, master, you must keep your shoulders back and your back straight in order for your center of balance to be perfect. Imagine that you are leaning ever so slightly against a wall behind you. Proper posture takes courage. You must walk as though there is something behind you to catch you if you fall, even when there is not."

"Thanks, Sebastian," Lydia said honestly, smiling at the carpet in front of her. Sebastian lowered their entwined pairs of hands down to either side of her waist and said nothing. The thumb of his right hand was rubbing slightly over her palm. "Don't move the bandages," Lydia warned him, although she knew there was no way he could have forgotten. His hand tightened over hers for a moment, feeling the hardness of apparent flesh underneath the concealing gauze.

"Someday, I'll know you complete again. All your secrets," Sebastian murmured, his chin grazing the top of her head.

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?" Lydia murmured back, and for a moment afterward there was pure silence. She couldn't hear anything except a sound like the wind passing overhead. Lydia closed her eyes and held that moment and allowed it to stretch out into many moments. Neither demon nor human moved. It suddenly crossed her mind like a beam of sunlight that she was exactly where she needed to be. This unexpected, inexplicable knowledge felt warm, like perfection, as if she had just completed a long assignment for school or finished a dance which she had performed flawlessly. _Good. This is good. I don't exactly know why, but this is good. _

Eventually, her body registered the tiny nudge of pressure against her back as Sebastian's chest pulsed in and out, tilting her slightly forward, backward, then forward again. She realized that he was breathing softly along with her, even though his body didn't need the air.

/

Ciel was in a considerably sour mood as he sat in his office and waited for Lydia to arrive. He had just received some bad news in regards to a certain case which he was following privately. The alibis of several people whom he had been investigating had all checked out indisputably, leaving him back at square one with no idea how to proceed. Ciel glanced between the letter from Scotland Yard and his own private notes for the umpteenth time, as if he could somehow make them say something different. Then he sighed and laid his head down on his desk in a rare display of weariness. He had been up late last night in yet another frustrated attempt to conduct an investigation. The mystery of the trunk that had been delivered to Lydia had been bothering him since he'd first learned of its existence. Not only was their late grandmother's request that Lydia should open the trunk in secret mysterious in and of itself, but Lydia's understated reaction to the old woman's bequests was also troubling. Not only that, but he was certain that there had been an uncomfortable atmosphere in the air when she had come downstairs to lunch afterward. Since that time, no one had mentioned the trunk or the will at all, which he found odd, seeing as they were in all this trouble precisely because of the will.

Ciel had thought about this for awhile yesterday, and he had come to the conclusion that he would not be dishonoring his grandmother's last requests if he looked in the trunk _after_ Lydia had already opened it. After all, she'd said nothing about that. Therefore, Ciel had taken a candle last night and once again snuck down into the basement, to the storage area where the surplus wealth of the estate was kept. The trunk had not been hard to find, placed right at the front of the collection. In the hanging, dusky darkness, the young boy had knelt down on the cold stone floor and carefully pried open the lid, holding the candle close to his face and peering down into the black. To his slight disappointment, all that had been revealed by the lifting of the lid were laces, lapel pins, jewelry, and filigree boxes….exactly as Lydia had reported. Even so, he'd felt uneasy about the chest, so he had lifted out every item and inspected it, opening the boxes and unfolding the laces and silks. He had even felt along the bottom and sides of the chest for secret compartments. He found nothing intriguing. Rather, the only thing that had intrigued him had been the discovery of a narrow, torn strip of paper with a crease in the middle. It looked like the top of an envelope which had been torn off when someone had opened it. However, Ciel had not found either an envelope or the presumable letter within during his search of the chest. He found it highly intriguing that grandmother had apparently written Lydia a letter. Was that why she had wanted her to open the chest in private, so that she would be sure to find it before anyone else did? And what on earth had she wanted to tell Lydia anyway, three years after her death? What could be so important that she'd had her manservant carefully keep the chest all this time, waiting for a safe moment to deliver it to his sister?

Ciel wondered if Lydia would show him the letter if he asked about it. However, the young aristocrat was uncomfortable with admitting that he had snooped through her inherited possessions, and also with implying that he wanted to read her mail. He certainly wouldn't tolerate it if someone else did that to him. However, he knew these questions were going to bother him until he found an answer, one way or another….

Ciel looked up as the door turned open and the brunette head of Lydia peered inside. Sebastian was right at her heels, and he signaled for the pair of them to come in. Sebastian was holding a stack of books in his arms, and the young heir raised his eyebrow expectantly. "How did it go?"

"I would never have believed it would actually work, but it did. I managed to walk with books on my head!" Lydia exclaimed in a pleased tone of voice. "All thanks to Sebastian, of course." She was once again wearing the green, ribboned dress that the demon had repaired for her, making Ciel wonder if she owned any other calling dresses.

"Very good," he said gruffly, flicking his wrist at his butler. "Sebastian, go and prepare tea for us now. I would like cinnamon scones, as well. What- would you like?" he asked his sister haltingly.

Lydia shrugged (another habit that they would need to break her of.)"Scones are fine. I haven't had Sebastian's scones in such a long time."

The demon bowed and exited the room silently, glancing back once as he left. The closing of the door brought the space in between the two siblings into focus. Ciel eyed the surface of his desk. "Where have your father and Madame Red gotten to?"

"They're catching up in the parlor. They haven't seen each other in quite awhile." Lydia smiled faintly. "I walked past there three separate times this morning, and they were still in there each time, talking away."

"Ah. Well, that takes care of them, then." Ciel made to sweep the gathering of letters to the side of his desk, only succeeding in making them swirl around on the surface. Lydia caught one and handed it back to him. "Thank you," he mumbled lowly.

"Say, does this letter have Sir Randall's signature at the bottom?" Lydia eyed the letter she had caught, the one from the Yard. "Sure enough, it does. Are you working with him on a case, then?"

"Ah….somewhat," Ciel replied, glancing between her and the letter. "You know him?"

"My father works under him for Scotland Yard. I'm very familiar with him. Pretty uptight man, but he usually gets the job done," Lydia assessed comfortably, tucking her curls of hair behind her shoulders.

It suddenly occurred to Ciel that of all the people whom he had hunted down, harangued, and generally questioned for information on this case, Lydia was the one person with whom he had never spoken. This was mainly because she had vanished more than a year before the case had begun, but even so, she _was_ the daughter of an investigator. There was the chance, however slim, that she might know something without even realizing she knew it…. Ciel finished stacking the papers and set a paperweight on top of them, then leaned forward slightly. "Actually, the case that I'm investigating….is about my father."

"Oh." Lydia sat up straighter immediately. Ciel felt something inside him wince as the twinge of dark memories crossed his sister's face, and he suddenly felt cruel for speaking of that man in front of her. But he needed to know. The older girl took a steadying breath and continued. "I did not realize that there was an ongoing investigation around your father's death."

"There has always been one," he replied tiredly. "Although recently I have had some….disappointing results."

"But Ciel," Lydia said, very gently, "I thought I heard that your father was killed in a fire at the Hotel Royale, where he was staying. They said that he left his candelabra too close to the open window in the night while he slept- the wind knocked it over and the fire caught onto his rug and spread all the room before he could wake up. That's very, very tragic, for sure, but there's nothing criminal about that. It was an accident."

"That was just the official version the newspapers reported," Ciel replied, his voice lilting in irritation. "What they failed to take into account in their story of my father's 'tragic accident' was that his head was crushed when they discovered his body. And the window was wide open."

"But….couldn't his head have been crushed by the falling debris from the ceiling? I was told that it took the authorities awhile to excavate the room because the whole ceiling had caved in, all the plaster and furniture from the room above had fallen through. That would seem consistent with Vincent's injuries." Lydia pointed out, still in the overly gentle tone.

Ciel huffed impatiently. "Yes, but think about it. It doesn't add up. You _know_ how light a sleeper my father was," he insisted, and Lydia nodded thoughtfully. "It's not possible that he could have slept through his entire suite catching fire. It's obvious that he was awake at some point that night, because they found his body on the floor, several feet away from his bed. But why wouldn't he have gone out the window to escape his flaming bedroom? The window was wide open, there was a fire escape just outside, and there were no curtains to block his exit. Why wouldn't he have gone that way and saved his life?" Ciel questioned, pressing forward the thoughts that had been on his mind ever since he had first been awoken to the news four years earlier by a distraught Madame Red and a stoic Sebastian. "I don't think he was alive to escape the flames. I believe my father was murdered that night, his head bludgeoned, and then his suite was set ablaze to cover up the scene of the crime."

Lydia stared at him quizzically, then frowned and rubbed her chin. Ciel glanced down at his desk again. "It's all right if you think I'm pulling evidence out of nowhere," he mumbled in a low voice, glancing toward the parlor. "I've been told that by certain _others_ before."

Lydia didn't reply for several moments, staring off into the empty space above Ciel's head. Finally, she said, "Vincent _was_ a very light sleeper. However, I think it's still very possible that after waking up to find his room on fire, he simply became disoriented by the smoke and flames and….went the wrong way. It happens. He would have passed out due to smoke inhalation before too long, and then the ceiling would have collapsed on top of him. It isn't difficult to explain it that way. Although…." She paused for a moment, looking vaguely unsettled. "Although, for the sake of supposition, if you were right and there _was_ foul play involved….I think I _might_ just have a clue."

Ciel sat up out of his slouch, looking her in the eye intently. "Really?"

Lydia nodded slowly and leaned forward over the desk, hugging her arms close to her chest. "On the night that your father died….I wasn't aware of what was going on, of course. I was in another part of the city, close to the place where my father and I were living at the time. But something very troubling happened to me there, something I've never yet been able to explain."

"What happened?" Ciel demanded, squeezing the hard nib of a pen in his hand. Without realizing it, he had pulled a piece of paper and a fountain pen out of his desk drawer, and was now poised to begin jotting down notes.

"Well, it wasn't nighttime yet when it happened….it was still evening." Lydia recalled, staring off into space again. "I had been running errands all day, and I was finishing up my last one. I was at the blacksmith's on Abernathy Road, picking up a hitch for Thoms Weatherstaff, a family friend of ours," Lydia recalled, obviously meaning herself and her father. Ciel's hand was already moving, scribbling down every important detail. "It was terribly hot in his shop, because of the furnaces he had going. I was sweating and I hadn't had a drink, so I felt a bit dehydrated. I left his shop with my bag of things in hand, and-"

"Which way did you leave the shop?" Ciel interrupted.

Lydia blinked. "I left through the gate that led into an alley. It was a pretty wide alley, and it opened into the gardens of the people who lived in the houses on either side."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes- well, at least I thought I was," Lydia replied, frowning. "But when I turned around, there was a man behind me."

Ciel's lips thinned. He did not like where this story was going. "You can give me a detailed description of the man in a moment. Right now I want to know what he did."

"Well, he didn't do much that was out of the ordinary. He offered me a glass of ginger ale. He seemed very nice. Now, I know you're going to say that I should have known better, and I do know better now. But back then I was new to the city and very naïve. Anyway, he had a tray of glasses that he was holding, and he was very nicely dressed. I figured that he might be a philanthropist, going around handing out food and drink. At the very least, I thought it would be rude to refuse."

"So you drank the ginger ale," Ciel summarized, thinking that it would be useless to berate Lydia for something that had already happened.

"I did," she nodded. "I didn't drink it all. I got past a few sips, and then I started feeling very….dizzy."

"Oh no," Ciel mumbled, laying a hand over his forehead. After a few moments, he summoned the courage to ask, "Then what?"

"I dropped my bag and fell against the wall. I apologized to him…. I said, "Sir, I'm very sorry, but I suddenly feel faint. I think it's the heat." And he held my hand as I slid down the wall, and he smiled and said, "That's all right. Go to sleep, young lady. When you wake up, you'll feel much better."" Lydia frowned, rubbing her forehead as if teasing the memories out of her brain. "He looked very calm. He didn't look like someone who was watching a young woman faint. I remember my hand was shaking, my left hand, and he was holding it, and I was watching to make sure he wouldn't go near my other hand, because I'd put the bandages on very loosely that morning….and that's all I remember. Nothing more until I woke up."

"Where were you when you woke up?" Ciel asked insistently.

"I was still in the alley," Lydia replied softly, "only I seemed to have moved a few feet. Instead of lying against the wall, I was in the middle of a flower garden on the other side of the alley. The sky was very dark. All my clothes were still on," she assured Ciel hastily, making the younger boy blush. "My bag of things was gone….I never did get them back. I was unharmed, relatively speaking. But the strangest thing….the strangest thing was my dress. I had been wearing a dress with a white border and hem along the bottom. It sounds very odd, but as I looked over myself, I discovered _scorch marks_ running up my dress and petticoat, almost to the knees. It was as if…." She paused, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "As if….someone had tried to set fire to me while I was unconscious."

Ciel gaped at her, his pen hand falling still. This was definitely not where he had expected her story to go. Lowly, he inquired, "Were your legs burned?"

"Not the flesh, no. Just the clothing."

"And what did you do after you woke up?"

"I went back to the blacksmith's gate and banged on their door. They were very annoyed at first, but when I told them what had happened, they called my father and gave me a blanket. But they weren't able to help beyond that. They hadn't seen anything. My father was frantic when he picked me up. He took me right home, and we stayed awake all night. The next day, he went back to Abernathy Road and started interviewing everyone who lived around there or had been there on that evening."

"What did he find out?" Ciel asked.

"Nothing." Lydia shook her head glumly. "According to everyone my father talked to, no one had seen me lying in the alley or had any idea that anything was happening. A few people remembered seeing a man like the one we described, but none of them knew his name or where he'd come from. Which is very odd, if you come to think of it. I'm not sure if you've ever been to Abernathy Road, but it's a very busy thoroughfare. People milling about at all hours of the day and night. Mind you, the flower bed did somewhat conceal me from view, but you'd think at least one person would have walked down the alley and spotted me lying there. It was several hours between the time I drank the ginger ale and the time I woke up."

"Which makes it also very odd that someone would try to commit a murder on such a busy road. And a murder by fire, no less." Ciel murmured, beginning to think critically. "Fire is a very blatant and obvious way to kill someone. Why didn't he just slip poison into the ginger ale instead of a sleeping drug? He could have done away with you quietly and easily right there."

"That's what I was wondering," Lydia answered lowly. "We thought that he might to have wanted….to burn my body in order to do away with the evidence. However, maybe he got scared off by the large crowds passing nearby, and decided to flee. But your question still stands; why not use poison to make sure I was dead before trying to burn me? Whether he succeeded or failed by that point, I'd still be dead. He doesn't seem to have been a very intelligent murderer."

"And you had no enemies in the city to speak of? No one who might have wanted you dead?" Ciel inquired, knowing that the obvious answer was right in front of them.

"Well…." Lydia trailed off, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "To be entirely honest, for the first day or so afterward, we suspected that Vincent was probably behind it. He was rather good at trying to kill me, after all." Ciel's ring finger twitched slightly. "But then the newspaper arrived on our doorstep….and we saw the headlines. After that, we just didn't know what to think. We still don't."

Ciel leaned back, closing his eyes quizzically. "So you remember nothing after you fell unconscious in the alley? No voices, no sensations, no flashes of images….?"

"Nothing." Lydia stated. "All I remember is the face of that man." She sighed lowly. "I thought that Vincent's death at the same time was an accident, a horrible coincidence. This was something I never wanted to think about again. But if he really was murdered, then there might be a pattern here somewhere. Vincent was burned to death on the same night that someone tried to burn me….maybe a mutual enemy of the Phantomhive family? But who?"

"What did the man look like, first of all?" Ciel questioned astutely.

"He was….dressed very well. A well-to-do man, for sure. He was wearing a blue vest and a black overcoat. He was fairly plump….and he looked kind. He had a jovial sort of face. That's why I didn't suspect…."

"What else about his face?" Ciel inquired, writing furiously.

"He had a round face….glasses….a fine head of hair. Sideburns, and a thick moustache." Lydia bit her lip. "I don't remember the color of his eyes…."

"Anyone man can change his clothes or his facial hair." Ciel commented reasonably. "We need something more concrete."

"There is one thing," Lydia said, sitting up straighter. "It was a ring he was wearing on the hand that was holding mine. It was the last thing I saw before I passed out. It was on his pinky finger, and it had something….ah….I made a drawing of it, but it's at home….I'll do my best to draw it now." She pulled Ciel's paper toward her and sketched an oval with his pen. "It was an oval surrounded by a frilly sort of outline. Inside the oval….on the bottom, there was this weird swirly thingamabob that I didn't understand very well." She scribbled the pen around until she had what looked to be the shape of a cloud. "But on top of the swirly thingamabob, there was an animal standing upright on a pedestal. It was standing on one of its hind legs, and its other limbs were up in the air like _this._ It had a tail like a lion's." She drew the tail flowing out behind the creature. "I remember thinking, _what a funny ring. It looks like_ _a circus animal._" She stopped drawing and glanced over at Ciel. "I don't suppose this looks familiar at all?"

"Not at all," the young aristocrat shook his head. "But I will certainly have Sebastian look into it right away. _Finally,_ we have a clue that could get us somewhere." He stood up from his desk, feeling energized and strong, the exact opposite of how he'd felt this morning. He decided that investigating his grandmother's mysterious letter would have to wait. "Of course, our first priority is to find the people who ordered the hit on us at grandfather's funeral. But it could be that the two cases may connect somehow."

"Well, I'm glad I was able to be helpful," Lydia concurred, standing up as well. "More helpful than carrying books around on my head, at any rate."

"Our practice can continue later today," Ciel declared, striding toward the door. "Right now, we need to find Madame Red and Aberlaine and fill them in. And let's find out if Sebastian has procured any more information, as well."

Just outside the parlor, Ciel ground to a halt and stared at the wall in indecision. There was something which he felt he ought to say, and he didn't want to say it in front of any more people than was necessary. He twisted the ring on his finger, once again hating himself for feeling so nervous.

"Ciel?" Lydia asked, peering over his shoulder at his bowed face.

Ciel sighed and turned around. "I know that my father was not a very kind man to either of us, and especially not to you," he stated bluntly. "The things he did when he was alive….are things that are going to haunt us all for a long time. Particularly for you and your father….I know that he affected your lives in very negative ways, and I want you to know that I do not….condone his actions." He drew a much-needed breath of air. "Even so, if he was murdered, as I believe he was, I want to know who did it and why. He was not a very good man, but he was _my_ father, head of the Phantomhive household. It is my duty as his heir to strike back at all those who would besmirch the name of this house. That is why I want to find his killers, no matter what."

Lydia frowned slightly, stooping down to lessen the height difference between them. Ciel was reminded strongly of his mother, who had used to lower herself down to his level whenever she wanted to tell him something really important. "I understand," she said softly. "I want to find out the truth about how Vincent died as well. I don't believe anyone should get away with murder, no matter what kind of person the victim was. Just remember, Ciel- you don't love someone for a name."

"Whoever said that I loved him?" Ciel scoffed, squeezing his other hand over his signet ring hard enough to imprint the mark upon his skin.

Lydia smiled, and her smile was like falling leaves, and her eyes were like drifting cherry blossoms. "You did," she stated simply. Her voice was so gentle, and yet somehow there was no room in it for argument. She had lived with them for fourteen years. She knew.

Ciel huffed, turning his face harshly toward the wall. "All right, fine, I did. I did. And what of it? Something once lost can never return." He thought of the morning he had been woken up to the news that his father was never coming back, of seeing the man's things lying broken and useless all around his empty study, the first night he had truly understood that he would be an orphan for the rest of his life. He thought of cold gravestones and colder dreams, wild anger and creeping despair.

Lydia laid her hands upon his shoulders, the normal one and the bandaged one. Her eyes looked a deeper blue in the lowering light of the mid-afternoon sun. "Then don't lose it," she intoned quietly, and then she straightened up and she was much taller than him and she wrapped her arms around his thinner frame and held him close to her like she had used to do when they were much, much younger, before anyone had died, before either of them held the contract, and for the first time in years Ciel closed his eyes and let her embrace him. He didn't know what he felt, but he knew that it was not fear.


	22. Radiance Ascending

**Hello! I'm back with an update, as promised! I really pushed myself to get this chapter out before I became too swamped in schoolwork, as is bound to happen. I nearly got distracted by something shiny, but I managed to re-focus myself just in time. XD Enjoy! **

Two days later, the rain was coming down heavily against the windowpanes as Sebastian made his way up to one of the terraced rooftops of the manor in search of his master. Lydia had taken refuge somewhere in the shadows of the manor after a particularly disastrous incident earlier in the day in which Madame Red had tried to force her to wear a corset. Sebastian had been looking for her ever since, and was growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that without his seal on the girl, it was impossible for him to automatically pinpoint Lydia's location whenever she was out of his sight. This would be the eleventh rooftop he had tried. Pushing open the door, the demon gave a subtle sigh of relief as he saw the brown-haired girl reclining on the dais at the edge of the roof. She had positioned herself under the boughs of the peach tree, which he had caused to grow to outrageous heights back in the days when Lydia had still lived at the manor, in order to keep herself dry. Silently, he glided over to her and sat down as well. "Master, you hadn't ought to be going anywhere out in the open, especially without informing me of your whereabouts first."

Lydia sighed, gazing out over the rain-soaked gardens below. "No one could possibly see me up here, not with the branches of this tree all around me. I needed some fresh air."

"Air is a necessary thing when one has been inside a corset for any length of time," Sebastian agreed half-heartedly. "….I suppose it's all right, now that I am with you….but you still should have told me. Your safety is most important."

When Lydia did not reply, the demon leaned in closer and reached out a hand to smooth her tousled, slightly wet hair off her forehead. "Have you been disheartened by your etiquette lessons as of late?"

"I'm not good at being a lady, Sebastian. I never was," Lydia said forcefully, bowing her head over her knees. "Mother always tried to raise me in the aristocratic fashion, to be sure, but something was always getting in the way of me completing my lessons. Even if I was better at it back then, I'm five years out of practice. I haven't dropped a curtsey or used a salad fork or danced the Viennese Waltz since I left this place. Frankly, I haven't really missed it. There's just no place for that kind of finicky do-all in Camden Town."

"You are not entirely out of practice," Sebastian intoned sensibly, brushing a droplet of water off of his brow. "You still remember most of the dances reasonably well. And your violin playing is on par with what your mother hoped for you."

Lydia shook her head. "That's because violin practice is easy. You can just carry the instrument wherever you go and practice there. I'm woefully out of practice on the piano, though. You can't tote a piano around with you. And I'm _terrible _with dining etiquette. You were there this morning, you saw. I wouldn't know the right fork to use if you stabbed me in the hand with it. And that corset debacle just now….goodness gracious. I'm going to be traumatized for the rest of my life by that awful thing."

"Indeed, I would advise against the wearing of corsets in order to ensure the structural integrity of your body," Sebastian agreed, nodding firmly, "but in regards to everything else, you cannot expect to gain all of your old knowledge back in a week. It will take time, and patience."

"We don't _have_ much time," Lydia protested, her frown like a dampened leaf on a grey walkway. "We have to get this done so the will can be finalized as quickly as possible. And I'm not sure how much patience I have left, either. I love my family, but I don't think I can ever be like them in terms of nobility or propriety."

"You will pull through. I have confidence in your ability to thrive under duress," Sebastian stated in a tone which did not invite argument. "If you are feeling less confident, let us practice the quadrille up here. I noticed earlier that it was your weakest dance in regard to technique."

"Well, all right," the dark-haired girl consented, standing up and offering him her unbandaged hand. The demon quickly ran his senses around the perimeter of the manor grounds once again, assuring himself that there was no trace of anything out of the ordinary, before he grasped the girl's hand and stood up, looming over her like the black opal which crowned the lintel of the main fireplace downstairs. He enjoyed the feeling of her hand's fragile flesh against his own, the way his moon-white skin slowly drew her light in, as if she were the sun and he was in perfect position to reflect her radiance. Slowly, he began to lead her in a simple quadrille, keeping time inside his own mind to a tuneless cadence of memory. Lydia kept glancing reflexively down at her feet, which threw off the timing of her steps; smiling mischievously, Sebastian pulled her closer until their chests were almost touching and she could not see her feet anymore through the tiny space in between. He expected her to retreat in haste, so he was rather surprised when the shorter girl instead reached out and laid her white-bandaged hand over the place in his chest where his heart should have beat.

"May I ask you a question?" she inquired. Her voice was soft and far away, as if she were speaking to him through water.

"Of course, master," he murmured in reply. Lydia pushed her fingers harder in his chest, although he could barely feel the pressure.

"I'm fairly sure I already know the answer," she mused, "but I've been wanting to ask, anyway. You….didn't eat my mother's soul, did you?"

Sebastian was honestly surprised by the question. How long had she been thinking of that? His fingers automatically tightened around her hand. "No, master," he intoned softly, "I did not. Although your mother lived and died with the contract mark upon her, in the end her soul….did not belong to me."

Lydia hummed a happy little note in her throat. "I knew she went to Heaven," she whispered, and leaned her head gently against Sebastian's black-clad shoulder. At some point, they had stopped dancing. The demon draped his arms over her and pulled her in gently, allowing his thoughts to pass like ghosts through the intervening years. Of all the masters with whom he had contracted, individually or generationally, Rachel Phantomhive had been the first to escape the hellfire of the underworld, despite his influence in her life. There was no way to deny it- the woman had been good. Not good to him, for sure, but then humans were not required to be kind to demons in order to be counted among the blessed. From a very young age, Rachel had failed to display the same attraction to his ability to grant humans' fantastical wishes that his former masters, nearly all men, had been ultimately corrupted by. She might not have understood his thoughts, but she had seemed to recognize the aura of a predator about him, no matter how he tried to disguise it with sweet words and obsequious obedience to her every whim. In the end, he had not been able to influence her enough to cultivate true evil in her heart. This was partially because he had spent the last third of Rachel's life, a time in which he would normally seek to complete his hold over his master's soul, being entirely distracted by her daughter. After Lydia had been born, Sebastian had not cared very much about her mother's lackluster soul. All of his energy had gone into shaping the child to his desires, binding her to him emotionally in order to preclude the bond of the contract which was meant to follow, the one which would give Lydia actual power over him. Years later, when Rachel had passed on, she had done so away from the manor; Sebastian had not been present at her side. Even so….

"Did you know she went to Heaven, Sebastian?" Lydia asked curiously.

The demon stroked her hair and replied lowly, "I did know it. I witnessed her depart on that evening."

"_Really?_" Lydia asked in great surprise, tipping her head back to look up at him. "You saw her- but you weren't even with us when she died! It was only Father and I there."

"I was bound to your mother through the contract," Sebastian stated matter-of-factly. "It is an arrangement that lasts until the end. I do not need to be physically present at that end in order to witness it. I saw your mother's soul come out in the evening air and….ascend."

They had stumbled onto uncomfortable territory, and Sebastian was very much hoping that Lydia would not press him further. However, her human curiosity was not yet satisfied. "I didn't know you could do that! What did she look like? Did she look happy? Did she float up into the sky? Was she-"

"Master, please, not all at once," the demon mumbled quietly, pricking her shoulder lightly with the edge of his claws. "This is not unusual for me. When a human dies and is taken to hell, their soul drops down immediately the moment it emerges from the shell of their body. The underworld is ravenous." He paused for a moment, and sighed deeply. "But when they are meant for Heaven, their souls….linger here for a moment, just a moment, before going up. She looked like herself, only….brighter, and without the pain and imperfection which the years had wrought upon her body."

Sebastian stopped, and pressed his lips together. He had answered her questions, but there were still things he did not want to tell her, things which he wasn't sure he could put into words, despite the silver-tongued abilities of his demonic nature. He did not know how to say that Rachel's soul, like every other Heaven-bound soul, had emerged from her physical cocoon in a wave of golden-bright light which was painful for him to look into. She had emerged with a wondering look upon her face, staring up into the sunset sky above her with such intensity that there was no doubt she was beholding something amazing, although he himself could see nothing. Her family mourning below her, still living in their bodies of flesh, could not see her; but he could, and he knew that she could have seen him as well, if she would have just turned around. But she did not; they never turned to look back at him, not once, not even if he had known them all their lives, and there was something about this which troubled him intensely, and frustrated him too, because the trouble was under his skin and he could not take hold of it. All he knew was that he did not like it when they emerged in their unfolding light and stared up into the sky, when that Spirit circled itself around them and for a moment everything was still inside that place. And the moment afterward they were gone, both vanished like a ripple through water, without paying any sort of acknowledgement to the demon standing down below. He hated that, and he didn't know _why,_ aside from the knowledge that he would never be able to eat that soul, but all the same, there was something else, something horrible that came when he was left alone in the embittered darkness, empty, not breathing, his lungs filled with fire.

"Sebastian?" Lydia said; he blinked and looked down, realizing that he had tightened his arms reflexively around her to the point where he was probably hurting her. He let go and moved back a step, bowing gracefully. "My apologies, master."

"Come and sit down on the dais, will you? You suddenly looked….unwell just now." Still holding his hand, Lydia pulled him back over to the place she had been sitting before, and he obligingly settled down beside her. The world around them was quiet. Everywhere he could hear the noise of water rushing, sounds that seemed to blend into the quietness. Cold raindrops which had worked their way through the maze of leaves above occasionally fell to the stone around them. Lydia smiled at Sebastian and softly petted his hand, her face far away, no doubt lost in her own thoughts and memories of her mother. The demon tried to turn his private musings away from Rachel Phantomhive, but it was hard to do with her oldest daughter sitting right in front of his eyes. _You are so different than she was, so much braver, so much more, and yet you are still human, my Lydia, still human and weak and mortal. Someday you too will die, and I will see you stand outside your body for the first time, the final time, before you lift up and move on, out past anywhere I could ever reach you. Will you look at me, I wonder, look back even once….?_

He rubbed her hand slowly with the center of his thumb, cool light, air, and the sensation of dry, packed soil working itself loose under the first rains of the season.

_You are…._

Suddenly Sebastian's head jerked up and he stared in alarm into the rain-filled sky. Lydia was pulled out her reverie by the look on his face. "Sebastian, what's the-"

"The perimeter of the Phantomhive estate has just been breached," the demon growled, instantly on his feet. "Three people, approaching very rapidly in a horse-drawn carriage. I do not believe they have an invitation." The next second, he had seized Lydia's shoulder and pulled her to her feet. "Follow me, quickly. And keep your head down."

/

Hurried forward by the demon, Lydia dashed down flights of stairs and across lamplit hallways, panting tensely. "Shouldn't we lock the doors-?" she called ahead to Sebastian.

The demon shook his head, staring out the windows as they whirled past them. "Their approach was too rapid. They are already here, and are spreading out around the manor. I need to get yourself and the young master into a safe place before I go anywhere else."

"What about my father? And Aunt Angelina, and the servants? We can't leave them!"

"I will fetch them right away, master." Sebastian agreed. "However, you know that I cannot do anything until I am assured of your safety."

At that moment, they encountered Ciel walking languidly down the hallway. He looked up, startled, as the pair of them materialized by his side. Lydia took his arm and pulled him over. "Ciel, we have to move _now,_ there's-"

Sebastian did not wait for her to finish explaining. Perhaps sensing more danger, he promptly picked both humans up, with extreme protests from Ciel, and darted down the hallway at such a speed that the pictures tore off the walls as they passed. One whiplash-inducing moment later, Lydia found them in front of an oddly-colored wooden door in a part of the manor which she did not remember very well. Sebastian set them down and herded them inside, where it was pitch-black. "Lock the door, master, and I will return very shortly with the rest of your company. As soon as you-"

He broke off as they heard a distressed, female-sounding shout from several hallways over. "Mister Sebastian! Mister Sebaaaastian!"

"Here, Meirin!" the demon shouted back, and then continued his instructions from the other side of the doorway. Lydia clutched her brother's shoulders fearfully. She could not see Ciel's expression. "Remove the guns from the safe and arm yourselves, young master will know the combina-"

Meirin shouted one more time, "Mister Sebastian, there's-" and then the air around them all exploded with the deafening sound of a gunshot. Lydia shrieked and Ciel grabbed her hand- the gunshot was immediately followed by several more. At the same time came the high-pitched, crackling sound of glass breaking, and Lydia could hear the air huffing between her lips and the sound of her heart rumbling within her chest. She could hear Ciel's breath as well, and the groan of wood as Sebastian's hand squeezed the doorframe, and the only thing which she could not hear anymore was the sound of the red-haired maid's voice.

Lydia pushed Sebastian aside and barreled out into the hallway, racing through several corridors until she skidded to a halt in front of the one running alongside a length of windows. Amidst the jagged shimmers of broken glass which littered the carpet was the still body of the young maid. Her hair had come out of its wrap and lay sprawled about her neck and shoulders, a pool of red, and from her chest bloomed a rose of deeper reddish hues. Her eyes were sagging closed, and she still wore a surprised expression upon her silent face, lips slightly parted as if to finish her warning.

Lydia made a garbled noise in her throat and started toward her, but a moment later she was seized from behind by a taller figure. "Master, you mustn't!" Sebastian insisted, and a second later another gunshot shattered the last window in the row, the force of it driving her backward into the demon. Lydia shook her head in a frantic attempt to dispel the horrific scenery as though it were a bad dream, but when her vision re-focused it was all still there. Yet another shot came through the window, and punched open the wall near the fallen body of Meirin.

"Sebastian, drive them back! Get them out of range!" Lydia shouted. The demon complied, gracefully stepping through the broken window and descending to the ground below. Out of her peripheral vision, she spotted the first of a barrage of fine silver knives and forks being flung into the surrounding bushes. Knowing that Sebastian would not allow the shooters time to aim again, Lydia flung herself across the line of windows and dashed to Meirin's side. Stifling her own breathing, the brunette flattened herself on the ground and placed her ear over the other's mouth, listening for breath. After a terrible moment she heard it, little gasps of air that sounded more like moans coming from Meirin's throat. Her chest had been pierced in the upper left-hand corner, about half a hand under her shoulderblade. The bullet wound looked too high to have struck a lung, but Lydia didn't know, she couldn't tell what other arteries or veins might be in there. "Meirin?" she called, grasping the girl's non-wounded shoulder. "_Meirin!_" The redhead did not answer, did not stir.

Time seemed to speed up as she huddled there on the floor, and everything grew louder as well, until Lydia was barely hanging on to her understanding of what was happening around her. Ciel arrived first, and joined her in trying to wake the injured maid, his eye patch falling to the side of his face with his efforts. Then Finnian and Bard came running up the corridor, toting a garden hoe and a flamethrower respectively. Lydia did not think she would ever forget Finnian's scream when he saw Meirin lying there, nor the baffled, tragic way that he and Bard came to kneel beside the two siblings, reaching out for Meirin and patting her on the head, the cheeks, the forearms, trying in their own way to rouse her. Lastly came Lydia's father and her aunt, running down the corridor at a dead sprint. Madame Red had actually taken off her high heels so she could run faster, and Lydia thought vaguely that her stockinged feet looked very strange indeed. Everyone was talking frantically; the crowd around Meirin promptly cleared the way as Madame Red knelt down and tenderly began to unbutton the maid's blouse, easing her hands into the material until she had cleared a space to where the flesh wound was. The hallway was silent as her fingers fluttered around the dark hole torn in poor Meirin's skin. At last, Madame Red took a breath. "The wound will not be immediately fatal. She would already be dead if that were the case. However, she needs to be taken to the nearest hospital and the bullet surgically removed as quickly as possible. We can bandage the wound now to slow the bleeding, but if the bullet remains in her body, it won't be long before lead poisoning will slip into her bloodstream, and that'll have her for sure."

"Confound it all," Ciel hissed, "the nearest hospital is in London. And what with these rain-soaked roads, it'll take even longer to go by carriage!"

Madame Red nodded gravely. "True, but it would take twice as long as that to bring a physician out here. And complicated surgeries _must_ be done in hospitals. They have all the materials, as well as access to plenty of ether. I have enough tools here in my bag to wrap the wound and stem the bleeding, but certainly not anything like what's needed to perform surgery."

"Will you be able to make it in time?" the young aristocrat demanded.

Madame Red's eyes and her voice were tremulous. "I don't know," she said, covering her mouth with her hand. "It all depends on who's driving, and how bad the roads are. I can't predict something like that." Her words were muted by the sobbing of Bard and Finnian, who were bent protectively over Meirin, not listening to a word anyone was saying. Lydia's father was standing guard near the window, his pistol drawn and at the ready.

Ciel clenched his fists and looked around. "Where in hell is that demon?"

"I sent him after the shooters so I could get to Meirin," Lydia replied, her voice quavering. "He should be somewhere outside."

Ciel pressed a hand over the eye in which the pentagram was placed. "Sebastian! Come!" he called authoritatively, and the next instant the black-topped feet of the demon touched down on the carpet. "Well?" the young heir demanded. "Did you incapacitate the shooters?"

The demon bowed low. "Forgive me, young master, but it seems that it will take a bit more time and effort for me to secure these assailants. They are….not like the others. They possess some troublesome skills. However, I had driven them back to the perimeter of the manor when you called. If you will allow me to go and-"

"Nevermind them for a moment. Can you do anything about this?" Ciel indicated toward the still body of Meirin, whose chest was rising and falling ever so slightly.

The demon frowned. "That depends on what you mean. I can tend to her wounds in the traditional medical sense, but I do not possess the ability to heal. Such a thing would be counterintuitive for my kind."

"_Damn,_" Ciel muttered distractedly. Lydia bent her neck and pressed her hands over the crown of her head, thinking very deeply. Her younger brother glanced toward Aberlaine. "I don't suppose Scotland Yard will be of much use. Even if they aren't already preoccupied dealing with crimes in London, it would take them hours to travel out here."

The red-haired investigator nodded grimly. "Even so, our priority should be saving this woman's life. I just don't know how the deuce we can go about it successfully. It seems we're boxed in here, and-"

"I know what to do," Lydia announced, raising her head up out of her hands. All eyes in the hallway turned toward her as she climbed shakily to her feet. What she was about to say needed to be said with absolute determination. "Sebastian, _you_ have to take Meirin to the hospital in London. Aunt Angelina should ride along in the carriage as well, so she can bandage Meirin's wound and tend to her en route."

For a moment, the demon was utterly silent. The placid expression in his red eyes had suddenly turned to something much more severe. "I hope you are not suggesting," he replied, gazing at her intensely, "that I leave you here at the manor while a small pack of assassins is present on the grounds. You should know very well that such a thing is impossible."

"Sebastian, you've _got _to go," Lydia argued, standing her ground. "You're the only one who can drive fast enough to make it to London in time. You can lift the carriage out if it gets stuck in any mud ruts, and you can get around any other obstacles with your powers."

"Then you must go with me," Sebastian stated forcefully, moving a step closer to the huddle of humans.

Lydia shook her head ruefully. "I can't. My presence would endanger everyone else in the carriage. I'm pretty sure it's me these gunmen are here for. If I went with you, I would draw their fire toward the carriage, and then Aunt Angelina or Meirin could be struck and killed. I can't let this-" she sniffed, and quickly scrubbed her shirtsleeve over her eyes. "I can't let this happen again. Putting people in danger... And speaking of that, Ciel ought to go with you to London as well. It's too dangerous here."

"I'm bloody well staying right here, and I _dare_ anyone to try to make me leave!" the smaller boy growled, glaring ferociously around the hallway in general.

Madame Red started to protest, but she was cut off by Sebastian. "I cannot do it. It is impossible. To abandon my masters in a time of danger goes against everything I am bound to by the contract."

"Damn it, Sebastian, Meirin will die if we don't get her to London soon, and you're the only one who can do it!" Lydia shouted, her face coloring into an odd mixture of fearful grey and angry blush. The other people in the hallway were watching the pair of them argue, their heads bobbing back and forth as though it were a tennis match, with the exception of Bard and Finnian, who were still crying, completely oblivious to anything except the unsteady pulse of Meirin's breathing.

Sebastian's eyes flickered toward the fallen figure of the maid. They were glowing red, hard as stone. "She knew what was expected of her when she accepted the position. The duty of all servants of Phantomhive is to protect the family with their lives. Her loss is unfortunate, but-"

Lydia actually stomped her foot. She wanted to smack his callous face right through the wall, but that would get them nowhere. "But what?! You can't just ask someone to die so nonchalantly! She only has one life!"

"_So do you!_" the demon roared, materializing right in front of her face and looming over her, looking exactly like the spirit of darkness he was. There was something feverish and wild in his eyes, like a hungry wolf that wanted to gobble up his prey and keep it with him, inside. Before she could think of what to reply, Sebastian had wheeled around toward Ciel. "Young master, are you hearing this?" He gestured furiously toward Lydia, for once appealing to the younger sibling to contest the orders of the older.

"I am," Ciel said, staring sternly at the broken windows. "She's right."

"_What?_" Sebastian looked as though the entire world must be playing a joke on him- _him,_ a demon! "Young master, surely a servant's life is not worth-"

"Shut up!" Ciel barked, rising abruptly to his feet. "I'm tired of you telling me what is and what isn't! Don't you dare try to disobey my commands. You will take Meirin and Madame Red to London as hastily as possible. Use the brougham, as it's the lightest carriage and will travel fastest. You will safeguard them along the way. Once you arrive at the hospital, you will make sure the doctors have everything they need to perform a successful operation on Meirin. You will then return here at once, and come to me. Those are my orders."

The demon growled furiously and turned back to Lydia. "Master, _please_ reconsider."

Lydia shook her head. "Sorry, Sebastian," she murmured, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the distressed creature. "You will obey Ciel's directions to the letter. That's an order." She spared herself from looking at his face by turning toward the huddle of people behind her. "Ciel, I wish you would go with him, though. I want you to be safe."

"I'm not leaving," the young heir replied, clenching his fists tightly. "I won't let anyone take from me what is mine. And I know the secrets of this manor better than anyone else."

"In that case…." Lydia nodded, accepting that she was not going to convince Ciel to go. She glanced over toward the servants; she knew that her father would never leave the manor as long as she was there. "Bard? Finnian?"

"Hmmmmmm?" the young gardener asked, tuning back in for the first time. They both still had tears on their cheeks. To her great surprise, Lydia found that her own cheeks were also waterstained, although she had no idea when she'd been crying.

"We're sending Meirin to the hospital in London with Sebastian and Madame Red," she explained, brushing the tears away. "Would you prefer to accompany them?"

"And leave you bunch in the lurch?" Bard asked gruffly, shaking his blonde, scraggly head. "No way! Our job is to protect the Phantomhive house, and we're gonna do it to the last! We'll find those bastards that hurt Meirin and pound 'em all to kingdom come!" Finnian nodded, still weeping.

Lydia swallowed back her emotions. "Well," she breathed out in eerie calm, "then that's that. Sebastian, take Meirin and Madame Red out to the carriage right away. Take the back way off of Phantomhive property. Whatever you do, don't let any harm come to them." She squatted down beside the still body of Meirin; Madame Red had pressed a pouch over her wound, and it seemed to be at least partially effective in stemming the bleeding. "Will it be all right to lift her?"

Her aunt nodded. "The bullet wound is not near the spine, so it should be fine. Oh, _Lydia-_"

The next second, Lydia was enveloped in her aunt's crimson embrace. Madame Red somehow managed to wrangle Ciel into her arms at the same time, and she squeezed her niece and nephew with the tightness of fear. "It will be all right, Aunt Angelina." Ciel declared, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. "We will definitely see you again. We can hold out here until Sebastian returns. We have enough guns for a small army, we have Aberlaine, and we still have _them._" He indicated toward the two still-conscious servants. "Not to mention the manor is not so easy to navigate. The intruders will have more than a few surprises waiting for them."

Lydia stepped back, and was yanked around so fast that she momentarily thought the gunmen must have returned. Sebastian was towering over her, his face shrouded in shadows. She had seen him look angrier in her lifetime, but not by much. Since there was really no way to salvage the situation at the moment, Lydia stepped toward him and perfunctorily wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning her forehead against the fold of his suit coat. The demon squeezed her back, although Lydia got the feeling that he was trying to cause her as much pain as possible; her body ached when he let go. "Take care of them, Sebastian," she whispered clearly. As she tried to turn away, she found Sebastian's hands back on her shoulders.

"You are to do _nothing_ dangerous while I am away. Do you hear me? _Absolutely nothing._ You will not so much as pick up a sharp quill. You will stay hidden in the safe room, and shoot anything that tries to come in unless it is me. Do you understand?" he demanded, shaking her a little.

Lydia took a shaky step back. Just what exactly was out there? "I can't make any promises," she answered, smiling ever so faintly up at him. "Go now. There's not much time. And try to hurry."

The demon bit his lip. "The intruders are still out of range. You have a few minutes before they move in, master. Please get to somewhere safe."

As Sebastian passed by Ciel, the demon reached out and adjusted his eye patch, gliding it back over his contract eye before the young earl could react. Then he had picked up Meirin, helped Madame Red to her feet, and the three of them parted ways with the larger group, Sebastian glancing back until they were out of sight as if hoping one of the siblings would change their minds at the last minute and call him back.

Once they were gone, Ciel glanced around, making silent assessments in his mind. "Come," he commanded. "We need to relocate ourselves to the safe room. Bard, go to the kitchen and retrieve your weapons. Finnian, go and find Tanaka immediately. Meet outside the safe room door and we will let you in. Don't bother securing the other doors, it's not as if they couldn't get in through the windows if they wanted to. Above all, be absolutely _silent._"

As the two servants hurried off, Ciel led Lydia and her father back to the windowless room with the oddly-colored door. "This is our safe room," he explained grimly. "The walls, the floor, and the ceiling are all made of reinforced cement. The door is solid steel, painted to look like wood. We have quite a cache of weapons stored inside. Please, come in and take your pick."

"Both of you stay close to me," Aberlaine directed as the three of them entered the darkness, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "It seems that we have quite a trial ahead of us."

**Ah, a cliffhanger! :O**

**How will our beloved characters survive with Sebastian gone? _Will_ they survive? Who are these people who are trying to kill Lydia? Will the Phantomhive household pull through? Find out the answer to these questions and more, next time! (Good Lord, I feel like I'm doing a TV commercial.) XD**

**And while you're wondering, please review! Reviews are my security blanket. They make me feel like I'm doing a good job of capturing people's interest. And they just may make me write faster. :3**


	23. Only Human

**If you want to know why it's taking me so long to update, I have two words for you... SENIOR. THESIS. It has consumed my life! And since I'm a double major, I have TWO of them! (The horror!)**

**Fortunately, I have decided to be productive in regards to this story, and I already have the next chapter halfway written. I will be finishing it and editing it during this week, so it should be out...soon. According to my muse, that is all I am allowed to say. :)**

A noise which sounded like elephants storming through a forest of saplings had been rumbling from an increasingly shrinking distance for the past few minutes. Inside the safe room, no one was making a noise. The air around them felt thicker than solid stone.

"What the bloody hell is that great racket?" Bard muttered nervously, shocking everyone out of their self-imposed silence.

Lydia bit her lip and thumbed the trigger on the pistol currently tilted upward in her hands. She had another one tied onto her hip, and a bevy of short knives around the clutch on her other hip. Everyone inside the safe room was armed to the teeth, and even so, there were still more guns inside the ornate safe which Ciel had opened than there were people to tote them. Lydia, her father, and her brother were currently crouched behind an overturned table, guns trained on the sealed entrance to the room. Finnian and Bard were flanking them on either side, hidden by their own pieces of furniture. Finnian had not been able to find Tanaka within the huge manor before the intruders had come smashing in and he'd had to retreat, a fear which Lydia was currently fanning in the back of her mind. Tanaka, too old to run or fight…. She thought of Meirin, Aunt Angelina, and Sebastian. At least her group was keeping the assassins busy here so the others could escape and head to London. Meirin had a chance to be saved. Now the rest of them needed to see to their safety as well. Speaking of which….

"Ciel, what _is_ all that noise? It sounds like they're tearing the mansion apart!" Lydia whispered, glancing nervously at the floor.

"It's probably Sebastian's traps. He will have springloaded them before he left," the small boy murmured softly, leaning his head against the side of the table. His eyes raised up nonchalantly to meet his sister's. "That demon normally cannot sleep, as you know. He has quite a bit of free time at night, when there is no one to wait on. I have him put it to good use by constructing elaborate traps, so the Phantomhive household can properly greet uninvited guests who seek to harm us. They're very effective. If the traps can take them out, we may not need to fight these miscreants at all." Ciel glared at the solid floor. "However, Sebastian did say that these intruders are more skilled than the others. So keep your guns prepared to fire."

"Is there a back way out of here?" Lydia whispered, eyeing the steel door.

Ciel nodded toward a miniature brown rectangle tucked into the wall behind them. "That doorway leads through a false passage out into the Western hallways, but I'd prefer we only use it if they manage to break in here. Once outside, we will be fully exposed to their attacks."

Aberlaine cleared his throat. "If they do make it in here, everyone, be careful not to shoot until you can actually see something of them. The last thing we want is to run out of bullets. This isn't the army, we don't have a supply train to back us up." Lydia nodded, closing her eyes softly as she felt her father place his hand on her shoulder. Being a police detective's daughter, she was no stranger to the art of cleaning, loading, and firing a pistol or even a rifle. However, she had never had to do it in a real combat situation before. Would she be able to actually fire upon another human being? Her body tingled; she couldn't decide whether she felt too hot or too cold. But she knew for sure that her equilibrium was off, and she was afraid of what was coming. She glanced down at the bandages which wound around her arm. Although it frightened her in an entirely different way, if it was to protect her family and her brother's household, she knew that she would use that power.

The clanging and rumbling suddenly stopped. They waited, breathless, in the enveloping silence of the cement-fortified room. Softly, down the corridor like an insidious, creeping fog, they began to hear voices moving closer. At first all Lydia could hear were the sibilant, lisping _s_ sounds, and then gradually whole words and sentences became audible. "-bloody madhouse down there, it is!" came the irritated cadence of a male voice. " 'Ow the 'ell do these blokes e'en walk around this bloodly mansion with arrows flyin' an' axes fallin' down, chandeliers an' lockin' doors an' what else?"

"It's a right death trap down there," agreed another male voice. "Seems like they were expectin' us. Little good it'll do 'em- oy! Why'd ye stop?"

A rounded moment of silence overtook the outside hallway, broken when a soft, sibilant voice tuned in, colder and lighter than the other two. "They are beyond that wooden door….says Goethe."

"This one right here? How many inside?" broke in yet another voice, this time female, thick and direct.

There was a pause again. "We do not reason in numbers….says Wordsworth. We know they are there; we can smell them, says Emily."

"Wordsworth? Goethe? Emily? How many bloody folks d'they have out there?" Lydia heard Bard mutter to himself on her right. She swallowed and shared a tense, silent glance with her brother. The way things were stacking up, it seemed as though they were outnumbered. However, she reminded herself that they still had the fortified walls and steel door of the safe room to protect them. Ordinary guns would not get through those.

The next moment, she heard someone leaning heavily against the door, and then a surprised grunt. "This ain't wood 'ere. Some kinda metal, innit? Smells like steel."

"Bloody aristocrats," said somebody else, "always takin' it o'er the top with everythin'…."

There was the muffled noise of mumbling as their assailants seemed to confer with each other. The sound of a gunshot made everyone jump; Lydia heard a yelp from outside as the bullet, instead of passing through the wall, shattered and fragmented on the fortified cement slabs which made up the walls' interior. More muttering, longer and lower this time. Then a male voice called loudly from the other side of the door, "Helloooooo in there!"

The inhabitants of the safe room traded highly skeptical glances. No one spoke.

"We know yer in there, so it won't do ye nothin' to keep quiet. Listen up, all of ye. There's somethin' that we want, an' if ye'll be so kind as to give it o'er to us, we promise we'll leave ye be in peace an ne'er trouble ye more."

Crouched beside Lydia, Aberlaine lifted up his head, running a nervous hand through his wavy red hair. "And what is this thing you want so much?" he called out to the door's monotone features.

"We want the bastard daughter of the Phantomhive line. We know yer in there, ye unlucky wench." The tone of the voice became singsong, mocking. "Give us the girl, an' we'll gladly spare the rest of ye."

Her father's face became ten shades darker, and Lydia's heart stuttered as he brandished his gun reflexively at the door. "You'll never lay a finger on my daughter, you hell-damned murderers! I'll see you locked in the darkest corners of the Yard's prison just for thinking of it!" It had been years since Lydia had heard him use the voice which he reserved only for the most vicious of criminals he dealt with.

More muttering outside. Raised voices. Then: " 'Tis unfortunate an' tragic, but we 'ave a mission to fulfill, one we cannot turn away from no matter what. We're offerin' ye the best option we can. Send the girl out to us an' we'll spare the lives of the rest of yer company. Only one 'as to die today. If ye won't…." the voice became deeper, more brutal. "My companions are right now fixin' dynamite packs to the side walls of yer little hidey-hole. If ye won't do like we say, we'll set 'em off an' kill all of ye in one! So think about that real careful afore ye go an' tell us what we _won't_ do."

Lydia's neck jerked back as she staggered up from the floor. "I'll come out! I'll come out, don't kill them!" she shouted through the steel doorway. A moment later her father and brother had seized both her arms and dragged her back down, which was a blessing in itself as Lydia wasn't sure she could have kept her feet a second longer. Her knees were shaking madly. From emptiness, she suddenly heard the flowing sound of Psalm 23 being recited in the back of her mind, as if her mother was speaking to her. _Yea, though I walk beside the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me…._

The voice of the intruder was talking again from outside the door, but Lydia couldn't hear him- she was busy being wrestled with inside the constricting arms of her male relations, both determined to keep her firmly on the floor beside them. "You're not going," Ciel hissed in her ear. "Absolutely not," Aberlaine growled. Lydia blinked and swallowed down a concoction of overwhelming gratitude and mortal terror. "But- he said-"

"We don't know if they're bluffing, but even if they aren't, we're not going to hang about here long enough to be caught in the blast," Ciel murmured so quietly that his lips were almost soundless. "We'll take the back way out." He beckoned to Bard and Finnian, and the two crawled out from behind their makeshift barriers and joined the huddle around the capsized table. "Inside that passageway, everyone must be absolutely silent. It will lead us to the West end of the manor. We will need to exit the passage in case these people detonate the safe room. Once outside, I want everyone to follow me _without a_ _sound_ toward the servants' hall. I know of several other secret passages which will lead us underneath the manor grounds, where we can safely hide until Sebastian returns." Ciel rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, the Phantomhive ring glinting coldly upon his thumb. "If by any chance we should become separated, we shall attempt to regroup in the- in the kitchen. Everyone knows where that is, yes? It has plenty of places to hide and windows to make an escape if needed. But do bloody try to stay together. If we are cornered, we shall stand and fight, but only a fool walks willingly into a gunfight of unknown variables."

Everyone around the table nodded curtly, and the young heir patted the gun attached to his hip. It was only when they began to rise and whisper over the floor toward the small rectangular exit that Lydia realized her hands were clenched just as tightly to her family as theirs were around her. The narrowness of the passage obliged them to let go and travel single-file. Ciel went first into the darkness, then Aberlaine. As Lydia prepared to duck into the opening, there came an impatient demand from the other side of the main door. "Miss, are ye comin' out or not? We 'aven't all day to wait for ye to make yer peace. I promise it'll be quick, just a moment an' then nothin'. Hangin' about o'er there in between'll only make it worse on yer 'eart."

Lydia whirled around and strode to the middle of the room, completely galled that these shameless creatures had the nerve to give her advice on how to best be killed by them. "I'm coming!" she shouted at the door, then pressed her fingers over her lips and hurried into the passageway after her father's waiting hand.

Bard worried the door shut after himself, and then they were completely in darkness. For such a small entryway, the passage was surprisingly spacious on the inside. They had to duck down from the low ceiling, but Lydia could not touch the walls on either side of her body to navigate herself. Luckily Ciel, at the front of the line, seemed to know where he was going. They held onto each others' right shoulders as they forged ahead through disturbed rustles and thick clusters of scuttling sounds. Lydia had never been particularly afraid of bugs or rats- she was studying the environment, after all- but now they were the furthest thing from her mind. They had to get away from these people who were standing outside the safe room door, waiting to kill her. They had to get away, and they had to find out why.

Fear had tampered with Lydia's sense of time, so she had no idea how long they had been tiptoeing through the pitch-black, stale air when they suddenly pressed together in a halt. She heard clicking up ahead, and then a tremulous line of light peeled itself out of the darkness before her sensitive eyes. Once her pupils adjusted, she could see the square back of her father as he helped Ciel to push the door open. Grabbing Finnian's hand behind her, she whisked them both out of the passage and into the cold hallway lit with rain-filtered glow of the dying afternoon. Bard stepped out of the blackness last, brushing cobwebs out of his rugged hair. Without a sound, all four of them turned to Ciel for an indication of where to go next. However, no one had time to do more than look before two silver arcs careened out of nowhere and knocked away the pistols held by Lydia and Finnian. Behind her, someone gasped. Lydia's head sprung upward as she beheld the stuff of nightmares; near the top of the long window, bracing himself against the indent in the wall, a black-coated figure hung seemingly in midair. More daggers were gripped in between the spaces of his ten full fingers. Upon his head was no human face, but one of the classic masks of the ancient theater tradition, its painted lips swooping upward in a vulgar smile. "Got ye."

The next thing Lydia knew, something hard and fleshy hit her and she found herself tumbling across the hallway. Everyone was shouting now. There was a body on top of her, black-clothed and masked like the first, but she could clearly tell this one was a woman from the extremely large bosoms pouring from her chest. The assailant had one hand around Lydia's throat and was reaching with her other back to her hip, having some difficulty due to her victim's thrashing. Lydia's vision sparked in different colors, but she managed to get her wits about her and drive her right fist up into the woman's abdomen. She choked and collapsed around the fist as Lydia spun her off and lunged back to her feet in time to see her father brandishing a revolver and attempting to keep back another black-coated assailant with a strange, thick cord around his neck. Finnian and Bard with tangling with the tallest of the lot, a happy-faced masked man who was dodging and darting around them with acrobatic ease. She couldn't see Ciel. She began to dash toward her father, reaching for the pistol on her other hip. "Father! Father!"

Aberlaine half-turned, and his entire body spasmed in alarm. "Lydia, look out!" he roared, and the next second Lydia felt a small body lean into her and drag her to the side. She found herself on the floor again with her brother fallen beside her. Panicked, she glanced over her shoulder to see a knife embedded in the wall where her chest had been moments before. The black-clad figure with the daggers was bending down over the fallen shape of the woman, carefully tilting her into a sitting position. Lydia could hear their voices as she scrambled to her feet, lifting Ciel up with her. "All right there, sis?"

"I'm fine!" the woman's voice cut back harshly across the hall. "Stop fussin' over me and focus on the mission! You always- ah look, they're gettin' away!"

Another knife pierced the doorframe beside her ear as Lydia ducked her head and ran pell-mell down the hallway, her younger brother at her side. She had no idea where they were going and she did not have the luxury to look around and consider. Whatever turns cut them off from their pursuer were good enough, whichever hallways offered the most protection were the ones they took. Everywhere around them the air was full of flying knives. Where in hell did he keep all those knives? Their assailant was a skilled marksman, but Lydia kept her head half-turned so she could see the approaching daggers and used the quickness of her right arm to sweep them out of the air. Even so, she could feel her brother slowing down, beginning to shake and wheeze as the strain of his condition latched its painful claws around him. She knew he would not be able to run for much longer. A flying dagger nearly rammed into her skull, and she barely managed to knock it aside with a powerful thrust of her arm. The blade bounced harmlessly against the invulnerable limb, releasing a tiny bead of golden light as it pierced the bandages on the surface. Lydia bit her lip till she drew blood, and kept running.

She knew when they had come to the end of the line. Ciel was gripping the waistline of her dress in order to hold himself upright, and his shoulders were heaving unstoppably as he gasped for air. He amazed her when, in one final burst of energy, he planted his feet valiantly on the floor and whirled around, flintlock pistol in hand. Lydia's head rang as he fired five shots toward the menacing figure approaching them. But the spasms of his oncoming asthma attack compromised his aim, and the figure leapt nimbly behind a marble statue and out of harm's way. On a strange wave of calm, Lydia stepped in front of him, drew her own loaded pistol, and aimed it at the body of the statue.

"I wouldn' be so bold if I were ye, miss," a quiet voice came from the adjoining hallway. Lydia whirled to find another black-clad figure just yards away, pointing his own gun directly at her head. It was the tall, acrobatic attacker from before. Lydia instantly recognized his voice as the one she'd been speaking with through the safe room door. The happy mask upon his face contrasted with the somberness in his tone. "Ye should 'ave let us end it simply back there instead of dragged it out like this. I guess it's all the same, no matter where ye go….a 'uman bein' will always struggle an' fight to stay alive." The voice behind the mask laughed bitterly. "But we 'ave a mission we can't help but carry out." The finger of his gloved hand clicked upon the trigger. "I won't ask for yer forgiveness."

Lydia lowered her pistol and inched her left hand surreptitiously toward her right. She didn't want to make any sudden movements, but she wasn't sure she would make it in time. "If you're determined to kill me, then, I suppose there's nothing stopping you from firing that gun," she swallowed and listened hard to the sounds of the manor. Loud clangs and pistol reports in the distance suggested that the battle still raged on elsewhere. "But call off your henchmen, and leave my brother be. You said I'm the only one who needs to die."

"No! If you kill my sister, I will _destroy_ you!" Ciel's voice raged from behind Lydia. The small boy's arms clutched against her side as he panted in impassioned bursts of air. "I will hunt you- to the ends of the earth- I will break apart- _everything_ that's good to you- I will- make sure your names- are never spoken- without contempt- you cowardly- sons of a- gutter whore!"

The tall figure did an unexpected double take at the sound of Ciel's voice. From behind the marble statue, the other attacker stepped out and stood still. Lydia couldn't see through their masks, but she got the feeling they were both staring fixatedly at her brother. The tall one sucked in his breath. "Blessed saints in 'ell, it's really Ciel Phantomhive!" he exclaimed loudly to the other. "I never thought he'd be hangin' about 'is mansion while we came roarin' through it! I thought he'd be runnin' away for sure." His first clenched around the handle of his gun as he lowered it slightly. "Tch. Guess we wasted good manpower sendin' the others out after that carriage. Can't mind it now."

"Your friends may not survive the attempt. I hope you said goodbye to them beforehand." Lydia could hear the smirk in Ciel's voice as she carefully positioned her body to make sure she was still shielding him. The shorter figure swore and drew back the daggers in both of his hands.

"NO, DAMMIT! 'Ave ye lost yer 'ead? Don't let 'im rile ye up!" the taller figure roared, turning sharply on his companion. "Remember father's orders. The girl we kill, but the boy 'e wants in front of 'im un'armed. He'll 'ave our 'eads if we get e'en a scratch on 'is spoiled skin!"

Ciel's body gave another spasm that Lydia sensed had nothing to do with his asthma. "You'll never take me alive, you swine! I'll kill you or I'll die!" The young heir stretched his arm out fitfully for Lydia's pistol, and the brunette was actually forced to wrestle him back from it and grip him tightly in her arms. Ciel did not know this, and she had no way of explaining, but she had finally managed to work loose the covering of bandages around her wrist. What she was about to do would not come with a second chance, and she needed her brother to be right next to her when she-

"I've 'ad it with this, ye pampered little brat! If it 'adn't been for ye, ye an' yer bloody _father,_ none of this would've e'er happened!" the tall man screamed, wheeling back around and pointing his weapon directly at Lydia's forehead. For a moment she thought he was screaming at her, until she realized the wild eyes barely visible through the holes of the mask were looking at Ciel. "Swine, ye call us? Ye 'ave _no idea_ what we've 'ad to go through while you've been livin' up here like a king! I ain't gonna hear ye whine like _yer _in pain! Ye think yer the only one with siblings ye want to protect?" He was panting now, almost harder than Ciel himself. Lydia could feel his panic interlacing the room. "I ain't gonna hear this. No, I ain't gonna hear another word! Yer comin' with us, ye little wretch, if I 'ave to pry ye from yer sister's dead arms!"

He raised his hand and drew back the trigger for what Lydia knew would be the last time. She heard her mother's voice again, Psalm 23, the final line: _And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. _She heard Ciel gasp and someone yell- maybe it was her- and then, with a desperate wrench and an almighty force of will, she dug her fingers into her right arm and ripped the bandages clean away.

**Author's Note: If you're someone who has only watched the anime version of Kuroshitsuji and therefore does not know who these new characters are, that's okay! None of the regular cast knows who they are at this point either, so you can discover their identities as the story goes along. And hey, this might just be a good time to skip down to your local library and see if you can't order the manga version. Because Kuroshitsuji is awesome!**

**Till next time! :)**


	24. Only Human, part two

**Here's another chapter for you all! :)**

**Notes: The astronomical community was aware of star clusters during this time period, which they called nebulae (but I'm sticking to 'star clusters' to avoid being too fancy.) Therefore, Ciel would have had opportunities to learn about these heavenly bodies. However, for the most part it was incorrectly inferred that all clusters belonged to the Milky Way galaxy, and that our galaxy was, in fact, the entire universe. It wasn't until the early 20th century that astronomers realized that these gatherings of stars were much, much further away than had previously been theorized.**

**And there's your astronomy lesson for the day. Now, on to the story! :D**

The first thing Ciel felt was a rushing sensation, as though they were falling through the floor. He blinked and peered around- or at least, he thought he did. He seemed to be a bit disconnected from his regular reflexes. It felt and appeared as though he was sinking in a warm, expansive, honey-golden world of light. The light seemed to be emitting _sound,_ a kind of soft music which he could not liken to any voice or instrument he had heard before. It did not hurt his eyes to look into. Everything seemed to be made of light, a bright, flaming veneer of luminance, unbroken except for a few golden lines and angles here and there which stood out as if they were closer in proximity. Ciel beheld all this, and he did not feel afraid. He merely wondered at it.

He attempted to glance down at his own body. Before his vision, he instead discovered a radiant collection of golden points of light, gathered so close together that they almost seemed as one object. He had seen something like this before, but only faintly, and through a telescope- these looked like the star clusters which dwelt inside the midnight sky of their galaxy, and were hypothesized to be independent gatherings of celestial bodies. But this light was far closer, more detailed, more intimate….what was he looking at? Was this _his _body? Where was Lydia? She had been right next to him a moment ago….so was she part of the star cluster too….? Ciel's train of thought (it surprised him that he still had the ability to think consciously in this state, although his thoughts did not prick at his mind like before,)was summarily interrupted as the lines around him began to shift and turn about. He got the distinct feeling he was passing through some of them, although he could not feel them as solid objects. The light continued to caress the edges of his ambiguous form. Was he dead? Ciel wondered calmly. If this was death, it was not so terrible…. He thought that the music soaking through the light seemed a bit closer and clearer than it had been moments ago. He began to focus on it more intently, certain that if he listened long enough he would be able to tune in to voices, words, would hear the true sound reverberating in this place. Up ahead, he spotted two separate star clusters which seemed to be coming closer….he allowed himself to float toward them, admiring the way every jewel within them seemed to stand out simultaneously. They harmonized perfectly with-

The world changed instantaneously. Ciel felt his body jerk, and then the rough sensation of being abruptly dropped from a comfortable perch. The first thing he realized was that he could see his feet. His head, which he could feel physically once again, was angled downward. He lifted it in surprise and beheld the bodies of Bard and Finnian, standing exactly where the approaching star clusters had been moments ago. It was with a great shock that Ciel's mind took in the shine of silverware and the pervading aroma of food, and realized they were in the kitchen. Bard and Finnian were standing at the door- Finnian had his ear pressed up against the wood, and Bard was holding a spatula and nervously swatting his other palm with it. Finnian pulled his head away from the door and turned it back around. Immediately his whole body leaped back against it in shock. Bard jumped as well, whirled around, and jumped even higher. "Ah! Ciel- I mean- young master!" he exclaimed roughly. Ciel stood there dumbfounded, staring at them. A noise from behind him prompted him to turn around and see the green-clothed body of his sister. She was carefully wrapping a spare apron around the part of her arm from which she'd torn the bandages away upstairs- upstairs? Ciel finally remembered that there was something menacing upstairs. Intruders. They had tried to kill him- no, capture him. They wanted to kill Lydia. They had been upstairs a moment ago, but now- how had they gotten into the kitchen?!

"How'd you two get into the kitchen?" Finnian asked, frowning in puzzlement. "We only turned our heads for a second!"

"Where's my father?" Lydia returned, stepping out hurriedly from behind Ciel. There was a noise to the side of them, and Ciel and Lydia turned to see Aberlaine emerging from the kitchen's gigantic storage room, carrying a new cache of weapons in his arms. He looked like he might cry with relief when he saw his daughter. She bolted over to him, and he set the guns upon the counter and wrapped his arms around her, murmuring low-voiced comforts and thanks to God into her hair. At one time, Ciel would have snapped that they had no time for such displays of familial affection. Now he merely stood back and looked away in uncertainty. Finally, Lydia asked, "You're all right, then?"

Aberlaine nodded, placing his hands on Lydia's shoulders and pushing her outward so he could survey her for injuries. "We were able to get away, thanks to Finnian driving them back by throwing furniture at them, but they're still out there. We were so worried when we realized we'd been separated from you two!"

"We were chased by the knife-thrower and the leader, the tall one. They almost had us, but we managed an escape at the last second. We found out they're here to capture Ciel as well as kill me- and anyone who gets in their way. They seem to be taking orders from someone called 'Father.' " Lydia reported professionally, in a voice which belied her investigative upbringing.

"But how did you get in the kitchen without coming through the door?" Finnian asked, still puzzled.

Satisfying himself that his daughter was unharmed, Aberlaine tapped the wrist of her right arm and looked meaningfully into her eyes. Lydia nodded.

"What on _earth_ just happened?!" Ciel demanded, finally finding his voice. His focused his uncovered eye on his sister. "You- that- what _was_ all that?"

Lydia stepped back to his side. "Oh, Ciel, I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to explain before. You didn't seem to want to talk about it, so…." She murmured gently, placing her hand upon his shoulder. The young boy glanced incredulously down at it, eyeing the seams of the bandages and the apron knot which covered the unwrapped portion. He wanted to unwind the cloth and see if the light was still there, find out whether he had been imagining the music or if it was really…. But right now, he had to focus on the immediate danger unfolding in the manor. "I promise we can talk about it after we make it through this. Will that do for now?"

Ciel blinked. "But how did we-"

"Have a pistol, all," Bard cut in practically, reaching into the pile on the counter and handing one out to everyone. "I knew this stash'd come in handy one day." Ciel pressed his lips together and for a moment, the room was full of nothing but clicks and clacks as everyone opened up their guns' barrels to ensure they were fully loaded.

"Right," Aberlaine broke the uneasy silence. "We ought to cover all the weak points of this room. The door and the windows in particular. Who knows but they might try to sneak up on us again, and if so, we need to be pre-"

He broke off as a loud thud sounded against the other side of the kitchen door, as if someone had thrown a brick at it. Everyone gasped and pointed their weapons in that direction. Ciel heard an object hit the ground outside the door, and then silence- or rather, almost silence. His hearing sharpened by fear, Ciel knew he was not imagining the sound of a faint, crackling hiss coming from the other side of the locked door. His heart froze.

"Everyone get back! Get back into the storeroom!" he shouted, backing away from the counter. The next second, he found himself under his sister's arm as the lot of them whirled and ran as though fleeing an oncoming train. They dove into the storeroom's darkness- Finnian wrenched the heavy, fortified door closed behind them with a single pull- and then they were somewhere in the unseeing black, racing toward the back of the room. The loudest sound Ciel had ever heard in his life came screaming above their heads like a vengeful, terrorizing spirit, like _Sebastian._ Ciel's lungs inflated and his breathing hitched. He felt Lydia fling him flat against the floor as the whole world tremored and all around them, things began to crash to the ground.

/

Panting intensely and blinded by the sudden light flooding into the storeroom, Lydia only uncovered her brother's head when the cacophony of tearing, grinding, and shattering had come to a halt. Glancing up, she coughed weakly on a strange, dusty fog filling up the formerly enclosed space. The heavy storeroom door seemed to have held up, shielding them from the debris of the kitchen door and adjoining wall, which had surely been blasted away. However, the storeroom wall which had held all the spices, jars of sugar, and bags of flour had caved inward in the blast, coating everything in musky-smelling, fine dust and shattered bits of glass. Lydia checked underneath her to make sure Ciel was still moving and not covered in blood. She glanced up and saw her father, Bard, and Finnian roughly digging their way out of piles of kitchen supplies which had been knocked down from shelves in the blast. Bard swore profusely as he kicked aside useless bits of cutlery. "They did have dynamite, those bastards! The devil take 'em!"

"Over there!" Lydia hissed, motioning through the demolished storeroom wall into the uncertain world of smoky dust beyond. Through the dim gray air, they could just make out the black shape of a figure striding toward them. Bard swore again. "We can't stay in here, we're wide open with that wall gone! Get back into the kitchen an' follow me!"

"Come on, Ciel!" Lydia whispered, finally unfolding herself from the delicate frame of her little brother. Aberlaine helped them both to their feet and they waded quickly through the scattered mess of food and kitchen items, dragging their feet as much as possible to avoid bringing them down upon broken glass. Back in the kitchen, the door was no more. Neither were the surrounding wall and a good portion of the floor. There were haphazard scorch marks everywhere around the blast zone, as if drawn in a terrible work of art. Eyeing the darkened figure still approaching through the dust, Bard beckoned to them and dove behind the main counter, using its wide bulk to protect his body. They hurriedly joined him, Lydia's heart thumping wildly in her ears. What should she do? She could try unwrapping her arm again, but what if she wasn't able to take all of them with her? Bard beckoned urgently at them. "Right then, Finny an' I'll aim over the top of the counter. You an' your father take either side. An' young master, you stay covered in the middle an' hand new guns to us if we run outta bullets."

Lydia nodded silently; Aberliane squeezed her hand, and then they separated as they took positions on either side of the bulky counter, guns pointed toward the shape in the settling dust. For a few moments, Lydia dared to hope it might be Sebastian; but as it drew closer, she realized with a plummeting heart that it was too short to be the demon. It was the man with the strange coil wrapped around his neck, and a large pistol held in his outstretched hand. He fired several times as they dove behind the counter again, muffling yells of alarm. He was a very poor shot, and Lydia heard the bullets impacting walls and the ceiling in a wide circle around them. When the firing stopped, she leaned her head out very carefully, nosing the muzzle of her gun ahead of her. The man had ducked into an alcove and from inside his masked face she could see his eyes peering just as tentatively back at them. Now that the dust had almost settled, however, she realized that something was wrong with the scene."Where are the others?" she whispered huskily.

"What?" Ciel mouthed in reply, glancing sideways at his older sister.

"I still only see one. Where are the other three?"

Ciel whipped around and yelled in alarm, falling back against the counter. Something needling and knife-like and cruel ripped into Lydia's vulnerable left shoulder, spraying blood on her chest and face and she whirled around directly into the fist of the tallest attacker. Her head smacked against the broken tile and she saw dancing images of a pair of jester's shoes standing directly in front of her. For a moment, blackness beckoned. Shouting language she'd never heard him use before, Ciel fired several shots and the feet leaped away from her vision. Pushing herself unsteadily upright against the counter, Lydia gasped and mouthed in pain at the skin split apart on her shoulder. She saw her father physically wrestling with the knife-thrower, and Finnian and Bard exchanging fire with the scrawny one who had distracted them all. Ciel was a few feet away from her, diving for a freshly loaded gun. She had to get up…. She had to help….before….she lost one of them…. Somewhere to her right, the masked leader's voice screamed, "Stop foolin' around, you lot! We didn' come 'ere to 'ave a bloody stalemate! Get the boy! Kill the girl!"

"I'll get 'im!" shouted a female voice, and out of nowhere Lydia saw a shape like a long black snake flinging itself through the air. It wrapped around her brother's ankles, and the woman holding it gave a tremendous yank, dragging Ciel empty-handed across the floor. He shrieked in tempered rage as the woman pinned him down with a knee atop his chest and began to bind his hands with the upper portion of the whip. Lydia was not quite sure how she managed to get on her feet; all she felt was her right hand pulling at something, then the countertop cracking under the forceful pressure as she flung herself at the female attacker. She knocked her flat against the ground, instinctively seized her leg, and began to drag her across the floor away from her brother. The woman screamed and kicked and made several failed attempts to get up. She whipped a knife out of the folds of her billowing pants and attempted to hack at the arm locked onto her calf, but Lydia kept dragging her backward as the knife dented and blunted against her bandaged skin. If they could drive the others off and arrest this one, perhaps they could finally learn who was pulling the strings of this twisted plot….! Outside the world of her thoughts, she heard the knife-thrower yell, "Sis! I'm comin'!" Lydia lifted her head to see him shove her father aside and rush her, his hands a menagerie of shining daggers. Lydia gave her captive's leg one last yank as she tried to fling her into the corner, hoping to box her in while she defended against this new assailant. The next moment, she had forgotten about all of that as the leg she was holding shifted in a strange way, and Lydia felt a sudden release of tension in the upper joint. The next moment, the woman's body crashed to the floor at her feet, and Lydia was left with a pale, _human leg_ in her hand.

She screamed bloody murder and scrambled away against the wall, staring at the disembodied limb in horror. It had come- it just came right off! She had pulled the woman's leg off! Just like a doll! A doll….wait! Lydia's mind caught up with her reflexes as she noticed the lack of blood and, for that matter, lack of warmth in the limb. It was cold and hard as a block of marble. Not….real? It wasn't a real leg? Lydia continued to back away as the knife-thrower abandoned his attempt on her life to fling himself to his knees beside the woman, helping her to wrap her arms around his neck. From behind Lydia, a furious voice shouted, "Goddammit all-! Take 'er down the 'all then, quick! Then come back fer the boy! I'll finish this 'un _now!_" From the edge of her vision, Lydia spotted a long blade, almost like a pike, rising up in the air as its bearer charged for her throat.

Several people screamed. Lydia felt her eyes widen and body soften, as if inviting the blow. She had no time to step back, no time to leap away- only time to do the last thing she'd expected of herself. Instead of stepping back, Lydia stepped forward, her head rising parallel to his upper chest. Still gripping the detached leg, she swung it desperately, like a cricket club, bashed it right across the temple of her would-be killer. Behind the mask, his eyes widened- and then the mask itself cracked and the top right section fell away. Lydia saw pale white skin, flamboyant orange hair, an ear with metal loops pierced all the way up and down, and an eye- a dark eye with a dark blue teardrop painted just below the bottom eyelid, staring at her in astonishment a moment before it closed and the whole body keeled over on top of her, knocking her to the floor.

Her legs shaking like a newborn calf's, Lydia wriggled herself out from under the man and lowered her ear to his lips, fearing she had hit too hard, been too brutal with her strength- but no, he was breathing definitively. "Lydia!" she heard someone shout, "are you all right?!" She turned to see her father rushing over to her. Ciel was on the floor behind him, still trying to work his legs free of the whip. Panting, she heaved herself up to her knees. "Father, I got him! I got-"

Aberlaine's face changed from relief to horror. "Look out!" he roared, seizing her arm and dragging her away from her quarry. Lydia didn't understand why until she whipped her head around and suddenly there were snakes- _snakes! What the hell?!_- crawling over the body of the fallen man, lashing out at the ankles of all who came near him. As they backed away, the scrawny masked figure emerged from the other side of the counter, flung his unconscious leader's arm over his neck, and proceeded to do the best he could to drag him down the hallway while the snakes advanced upon the humans. Lydia realized only now that the thick band around his neck was actually a snake. Ciel was still struggling on the floor, in the throes of what sounded like a full scale asthma attack. Lydia rushed to him just as the serpents reached him; suddenly Bard and Finnian were at their side. "Miss Lydia, please take care of master Ciel! We'll handle these pests!" Scooping her little brother up in her arms, Lydia was able to back away with her ankles unbitten as the two male servants and her father proceeded to beat back the hissing snakes with pots, pans, spatulas, and ladles. A shriek of rage rang out down the hallway, where the knife thrower had returned to help drag his leader to safety. The snake man was standing upright as if electrified, staring into the unfolding battle. "Stop it! _Stop it!_ Stop hurting them!"

"Call 'em off, then, ya crazy bugger!" Bard roared, smacking a green snake across the room with a sauce pan. Lydia didn't hear the man give any sort of command as she frantically rubbed her brother's back, his fragile shoulders heaving- but the next moment the snakes all turned aside, as though following the pied piper, and slithered away through the bombed-out door. Down the hall, the last of their assailants disappeared around the corner, and all was still for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

"Everyone get back behind the counter," Aberlaine commanded lowly, his face an ashen blank. "They might come back." As nervous as field mice, the group hurriedly scuttled behind the immobile block of wood, now pockmarked by bullets. Her father glanced around. "All right, now we've got to have our wits about us. Bard, I wanted you to keep your gun trained on these windows. Finnian, you take those windows. Lydia, you watch the storeroom, they can get in from there since the wall is down. I'll cover the hallway. If anyone sees any movement, let out a yell straight away. We can't be caught off-guard this time."

Still holding her brother in her arms, Lydia hurried to her post and ducked down, tucking him into the cabinet aside her. From behind the wooden half-door, Ciel's blue eyes peeked out at her. His breathing seemed to be slowing down, although Lydia knew he would need an herbal concoction and plenty of bed rest before he was fully recovered. But he was still here; still here for her to take care of, and she was still here as well. The attackers may have gotten away, but they had not gotten away with her brother or her life. Her group was all right. They were all alive. The silence stretched on for a long time as everyone fixed their eyes upon the openings before them, listening desperately for noises, any threatening sounds. Lydia thought she could see the light grow slightly dimmer in the sky. It seemed like forever before her father spoke again. "How many bullets have we got left? I only have three."

"None," whispered Finnian.

"One," muttered Bard, scratching his scraggly chin.

Lydia glanced slowly about the room. "I don't know where my gun is. I think it must've gotten knocked away while I was getting bashed around."

"Here," Ciel's hand thrust his pistol outside the cupboard. "I think I've got two shots left."

Aberlaine promptly opened up his gun's chamber and handed a small, sleek bullet over to Finnian. "Bloody hell, I hope they don't return. That's not much to defend with."

"Maybe they won't come back," Finnian whispered hopefully. "Maybe they'll leave. They've probably run low on bullets too, and they're not in good shape to fight us. Miss Lydia knocked out the man who was screaming all those orders, and she pulled the false leg off of that lady with the whip."

"To be fair, I didn't actually mean to do that last bit…." Lydia muttered balefully, looking over to where the disembodied leg still lay crooked upon the floor, turning her stomach even though she knew it wasn't real.

"An' I'm pretty sure I knicked the bloke with all them knives in the shoulder," Bard reported, grinding his teeth as he stared into his almost-empty chamber. "Damn it all! If Meirin was here with us, she coulda taken 'em all down in a second."

"Why is that?" Lydia asked, her mind starting as she tried to picture the clumsy, shy, red-haired maid with pistols in her hands.

"Meirin is a sniper. Or was, I should say. She has perfect farsighted vision," Ciel's voice reported matter-of-factly from the cupboard. "That is why I hired her, to defend the manor in the case of a crisis such as this. Likewise, Bard possesses tactical military knowledge and a vast enthusiasm for weaponry. And Finnian possesses enormous strength, as you may have noticed."

"Good grief," Lydia muttered, rubbing her forehead and exchanging an incredulous glance with her father. "….I see what you meant when you said they weren't to be trifled with."

"You didn't do so bad yourself," Bard nodded approvingly in her direction. "Hell, we were all pretty good, weren't we? I always said we didn't need to rely on Sebastian for everythin'!"

"Let's not celebrate prematurely," Aberlaine advised, scanning the empty hallway once again. "We might not be out of the woods yet. As long as we're not being attacked right at this moment, let's take an assessment of injuries."

Bard shrugged. "Well, I got a bit of a lump on my head, but I got no reason to complain. I think Miss Lydia an' the young master got hit worst off, they did. It was them those crazy buggers were goin' for."

"I will be all right," Ciel murmured tiredly. "Once Sebastian comes back and clears the manor out, we can all rest properly. My hands are only a little lacerated from that woman's whip."

"I think she got me with that, too," Lydia admitted, carefully peeling apart the split eaves of cloth to peer at the open wound beneath. The line of males flinched. "It'll be all right, once I can soak it….it just caught me off-guard, is all…."

Bard bit his lip thoughtfully. "Young master, I….well, not to pry, but….any idea why these blokes wanted to snatch you away an' off Miss Lydia? Who are they?"

"That is something which requires more investigation," Ciel replied vaguely. "Hopefully the clues we are able to glean from our interactions today will give us enough knowledge to move the case forward. They were able to take us by surprise at first, but they will not do so again. I did learn, however, that there are apparently more of them than were present at the manor today. The leader spoke of sending 'the others' off after the carriage because they believed I would be in it."

The male servants gasped, and Finnian sputtered, "But- Meirin-"

"Do not worry," the young heir murmured confidently. "Have you forgotten that Sebastian is with them? He will be able to defend her and Madame Red from all threats and dangers on the road. We were correct to send him along with them." From inside the cupboard, he caught Lydia's eye for a moment before lowering his head back to his knees.

The thatch-haired gardener nodded, visibly calming. "I hope Mr. Sebastian comes back soon…. But you know, there's still something I don't understand," he declared, tilting his head in puzzlement. "How did you and Miss Lydia get into the kitchen before? We had it all locked up and secure before they went and blew the wall open!"

The two siblings exchanged glances once again, and then Bard's body gave a sudden spasm. "Someone's comin'!" he hissed, gazing wide-eyed through the broken window above the counter. Lydia could not hear anything, but the certainty in Bard's voice was absolute. They all whirled reflexively toward the window.

"Everyone, keep covering your own entrances! Keep your pistols aimed! They may be trying to distract us again!" Aberlaine urged, locking his white-knuckled hands around his gun. Lydia crawled several spaces to the left and barricaded her body in front of the cupboard which concealed her brother. She glanced anxiously between the empty storage room and the shattered window. When a shadow fell across the counter, she turned and gasped- everyone did, they couldn't help it- as a long, black figure leaned slowly in front of the radiant light of the setting sun.

**Our characters just couldn't get a break in this chapter, could they? At least they're all alive! I had to focus really hard when writing this chapter- it's not easy to depict a chaotic battle scene where everything is happening at once, and still convey all the necessary information to move the action forward. I hope I did all right!**

**On that note, reviews are appreciated! I want to know what people think. I'm open to constructive criticism, praise, general commentary...and ridiculous fangirling if you just can't help yourself. God knows I've done it a few times as well. :)**


	25. Recovery

Sebastian whisked across the countryside, his shape hidden within the merest form of shadow. He skimmed over lakes and catapulted across vast tracts of farmland, his body moving too fast for the human eye to see. He only bothered to skirt around the perimeter of the grounds of certain Churches. All of his attention was focused solely on one end: he had to return to the manor _now._ If he was too late…. The demon did not stop to interrogate the taut, rigid feeling within his infernal body. He knew that Ciel was not dead, for he would certainly have felt it through the contract if the young heir had passed on. A little while ago, he had felt a considerable amount of panic radiating off the edges of Ciel's mind and spearing into the demon through their connection. On a normal occasion, Sebastian would have been obliged to appear immediately by his young master's side and defend him from the danger. Although the demon did not care much for the boy, being conversely bound by an order that kept him away from what he had worked so long to protect was unnerving to him. Now the panic had subsided, and Sebastian could sense that Ciel was still inside the manor, and he was not in immediate danger of harm. But that did not mean they had escaped the assassins.

Beyond that, there was Lydia. Sebastian hissed in fury; this whole thing had been her idea from the start, the utter fool. To risk one's only life to save the housemaid-! Ridiculous! Sebastian pushed himself forward at an even faster rate. Within his dark mind all sorts of uncertainties were stirring, cruel fears slaying the easy confidence he'd claimed only hours before this whole thing had started. He truly had no idea whether Lydia was dead or alive at this moment. The blood of the Phantomhive line connected her to the demon at least partially, but she did not have an established contract with him. Sebastian had never been able to remotely hear her call or sense her well-being the way he could with Ciel. He had never known for sure whether he would be able to feel it when she died. That kind of information could only be learned once, and afterward it would be too late to put it to any kind of use. With a rage-filled growl, Sebastian launched himself onward with greater speed still. Idiot though she may be, he was not going to lose his master just when she had finally come back within his reach. He was not going to let the heavens deprive him like this. All humans died quickly, but Lydia was too young even by their measly standards. She had perhaps sixty years of natural life before her, and Sebastian was not going to let go of those years. He wanted to dwell within them with her, for she was his true master, and those years belonged to _him._ He wanted to sleep beside her and cover his hurting spirit with her light, he wanted to build her a household and keep her safe inside, he wanted to softly persuade her to take the contract. He was not going to lose to _that spirit. _

Reaching the Phantomhive manor, Sebastian focused and fell out of his shadow form, the coattails of his butler's jacket fluttering behind him as his black-topped feet touched the ground. The first thing he noticed as he stared up at the imposing manor was the strong smell of gunpowder permeating the air. Lots of gunpowder; its odor was as thick as soup, dampening his ability to sniff out the humans he had left behind. Sebastian immediately ran his supernatural senses around the perimeter of the grounds, feeling for the presence of the intruders. They were not here. Even so, they had not left long ago….and in the air there was another scent, running faint and low underneath the gunpowder…. Blood. _Her_ blood. Master. _No!_

Gritting his teeth at the thought of what he might find, Sebastian rushed around the side of the house toward the pull of Ciel's contract mark. It might not be death, she could merely be injured, just a wound…. But if this was her death flowing past him on the wind, if the end had come for her while he was not at her side, he had felt nothing of it. He had not seen her spirit rise up from the earth. She had gone on without him, just like all the others, without even a backward glance…. Reaching the front window of the kitchen, which was shattered into several pieces, Sebastian froze and could not move forward. He did not know why. He could sense Ciel right in front of him, and the smell of _her_ blood was leaking out from the window at its strongest yet. Even so, the demon stood there just beyond the window for minutes which felt like more of an eternity that the eternities he had already passed through, staring at the gaping, jagged opening. The smell of her blood was thickening, congealing, drying up as Sebastian stood rooted to the spot. Everything would be finalized once he looked in the window; the riddle of Schrodinger's cat, both alive and dead, would become one or the other irrevocably, and he had barely had any time….

Finally Sebastian knew he could not remain in the thrall of this strange dread any longer. If she was gone she was gone, and nothing would change that. He would continue without her. It was not as though he had a choice. If she was still alive, he might well lose her if he tarried here like an indecisive fool. With this thought in mind, the demon drew silently near the window and leaned slowly down to peer inside. His red orbs widened.

"Master!" The next moment, the demon had swung himself down into the ruined kitchen- an absolute disaster area- and made a beeline for the source of the bloodshed. Lydia crumpled like a doll into his arms, her skin as pale and cold as bisque china. "Hello, Sebastian…." As she spoke, his razor-sharp eyes detected the edge of a gash in her left shoulder, hidden by all the blood surrounding it. Even with this, the blasted girl still had the temerity to smile. "….Good to s-see you again…."

There was an audible exhale of breath from the other humans hiding behind the counter. He took note of Bard, Finnian, and Aberlaine, all holding guns and looking rather pale and beat up, but none more seriously injured than a bit of bruising and scratching. Where was….? "Sebastian," he heard Ciel's voice from inside the cupboard behind Lydia, and he carefully pulled her to him and lifted her away so the young heir could emerge. Ciel's clothes were spattered with blood as well, but he had not lost nearly as much as his sister. The bright blue eyes of his young master gazed authoritatively into his own. "Where are the intruders? Are they gone?"

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian replied promptly. "They were not on the premises when I returned just now."

"What about Meirin? Is she at the hospital? We heard those bad men sent out another group after your carriage!" Finnian exclaimed, wide-eyed.

Wondering how they had known this, Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I left Meirin at the London hospital with Madame Red after ensuring the doctors had everything conducive to a successful surgery. We did encounter a group of armed attackers on the way there. They cut us off in a carriage of their own, and tried to force us off the road. However-" the demon smiled his charming smile, "I promptly damaged their wheels, and their carriage plunged off the road into a marsh. Since my errand was of the utmost urgency, I did not linger afterward to ascertain their well-being, or lack thereof."

"Ah! Mr. Sebastian's amazing, as usual!" Finnian exclaimed brightly.

Bard rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but we didn't do too bad, either! You shoulda seen us, Sebastian! We stomped on their offense an' pounded their defense! We had 'em runnin' down the halls-!"

"This is all well and good, and I'm glad everyone is all right," Aberlaine interjected, standing up and offering a hand to Ciel to pull him up. "But before we begin to reminisce, I believe we should see to our wounds, particularly Lydia's and Ciel's."

Ciel nodded, glancing down at Lydia, who was still folded in the demon's arms and clutching the blossom of blood blooming from her shoulder. "Yes, I agree. First thing's first, though- Sebastian, hurry throughout the manor and dismantle any traps of yours that haven't already been sprung. Also, remove any objects that may become immediate dangers to anyone passing by. In particular, I believe you will probably find large amounts of dynamite attached to different walls outside of the safe room. Dispose of all of these, and once we know the manor is safe to move about in, we can return upstairs and fetch the medical kits."

Sebastian handed Lydia over to her father reluctantly, and turned his attention to the bombed-out kitchen wall and the manor beyond, which he had no doubt he would spend the latter of the night repairing. "Yes, my lord."

/

A little more than an hour later, Ciel Phantomhive stared intently across the darkened room of an out-of-the-way parlor, rubbing the newly wound bandages which ran across both his palms. Lydia was resting down the hall in a bedroom, Aberlaine was sitting up with his daughter, Bard and Finnian were in the kitchen salvaging whatever they could find, and Sebastian was conducting a survey of the manor grounds to see if he could discover any evidence left behind by the attackers. Even though the assault on the manor had only lasted for a few hours, the young heir felt as though it had been days since he'd had the opportunity to sit down and think things through. Now that he was finally afforded this luxury, Ciel found one thought kept rising continually to the surface of his mind like a persistent ocean swell. He knew he ought to be more concerned with the fact that some mysterious entity had launched direct action against the Phantomhive name, and yet at the moment, the image frozen in his mind was the disordered, confused glimpse he had caught of his sister's bandages flying free before Lydia had pulled him into the starry world of light. The implications of this experience, now proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, were practically making the young heir's head spin. Lydia was….she was supernatural. She had done what no ordinary human could have done. Ciel was well-accustomed to the workings of the supernatural in his everyday life, but before this point, these inexplicable powers had been wielded solely by Sebastian. A demon was _supposed_ to have supernatural powers. It was part of their otherworldly nature. And yet now, completely independent of Sebastian's presence or influence, his own very-human sister was changing the nature of the world around them and swinging them through inexplicable light. Not only that, but she had somehow managed to physically move them from danger and certainty of death upstairs to the relative safety of the downstairs kitchen. And not only _that,_ but he had witnessed, once again, the inhuman strength which her bandaged arm possessed. He had seen her hand actually crack the countertop as she pulled herself to her feet and lunged at the assailant on top of him, and he had watched her drag the masked woman across the floor as if she were weightless. Although his distracted mind had had no time to wonder at it while it was happening, he now thought back to the knife the woman had tried to use to free herself, hacking and chopping at his sister's hand- and how in the end it had been the knife which had sustained all of the damage of blunt impact upon a limb that was apparently as invulnerable as it was strong. And yet….

Ciel bit his lip, thinking of his sister's limp body lying in the bed a few doors down, a ragged tear in her shoulder. And yet she was still mortal, still damageable. Everything other than her right arm seemed to be made of normal human flesh, easily burned, bruised, and bloodied. She was not invincible, and she knew it. This reality only made him all the more anxious as he twisted his ring upon his thumb. _She could have actually died today. So many times, she could have died…. I felt like I was going to die too, but it seems like these murderers don't want to kill me, not yet, anyway. They want to catch me like a rabbit in a snare and carry me back to 'Father,' whoever that is, and use me for purposes unknown. Ransom, most likely. Or perhaps I have injured them in the past in the course of my duties as the Queen's guard dog, and they wish to exact revenge. Nothing out of the ordinary, I daresay….but what could they possibly have against Lydia?_

There was a knock at the parlor door, and Ciel bade the caller enter. The young heir turned to gaze upon the dark form and inscrutable face of his butler, blocking the light from the hallway windows behind him. "There is a telephone call for you, young master," the demon reported expressionlessly. "It is from the Royal Hospital in London."

/

"Meirin is expected to live," Ciel reported to a bedroom full of Lydia, her father, and Sebastian. He had closed the door for privacy even though the only other occupants of the manor were currently several floors below them. "The most critical surgery, that involving the removal of the bullet lodged in her torso, has been completed successfully. They may have yet to perform several lesser surgeries to remove any traces of shrapnel they might find, and to make sure her stitches hold as they should. Her recovery will not be instantaneous, and we may find ourselves short on household help for some time. However, according to her doctors and Madame Red, she is not in immediate danger of death or permanent disability. She will return to the manor as soon as she has stabilized enough to be approved for travel."

There was a silence after his words that felt like a great heaving of breath. Normally such news would have been cause for smiles and good cheer, but at the moment there was too much exhaustion bleeding out the bodies of the humans. Lydia had sat up in nervous anxiety when he had entered the bedroom, and now she fell back upon her pillow with a little jarring motion that made her wince in pain. "Thank goodness," she breathed out, turning her face down toward her injured shoulder. "It wasn't all in vain, then. We took a terrible risk, sending Sebastian away with Meirin, but because of that, she's still alive."

To his side, Ciel glimpsed Sebastian tense up and narrow his eyes; he guessed that the demon was not yet ready to overlook his disapproval of being sent away from the manor in its hour of greatest danger. Before Sebastian could start another argument, Ciel assertively changed the topic. "Have you discovered anything of interest?" he asked the demon, cutting his icy blue eyes toward him.

Sebastian nodded, still frowning in displeasure. "I have, young master. I found the dynamite attached to the outside walls of the safe room, as you said. I found a large quantity of daggers scattered in various places throughout the manor. I found plenty of cartridges as well, half of a broken porcelain mask down in the kitchen, and numerous hoof and wheel tracks outside on the grounds, which I made sure to document lest another rainstorm wash them away. But by far the most interesting of my finds was _this._" Reaching into the cloth bundle he had been carrying, the demon removed a long, pale object- the disembodied false leg of the female assailant. Ciel grimaced before it. He was loathe to admit it, but his heart had given a dreadful leap of shock when it had appeared for a few seconds that Lydia had actually wrenched the woman's leg from her body. Even now, his sister looked quite faint at the sight of it.

"Such a thing might indeed give us a significant clue," he agreed, trying to divert his focus. "What is it made of? Porcelain? Wood? Clay? There are only a select number of merchants in England who specialize in such prosthetics."

"This limb is not made of any of those, although it possesses the fineness of porcelain and the durability of wood," Sebastian responded, appraising it with his ruby eyes. "I believe it is made of some kind of powdered bone material. It is very hard, and yet its joints move seamlessly. However, I would say the most interesting aspect of this particular prosthetic is _this._" Turning the leg over, the demon extended his hand so the humans could see what had caught his eye. Trying to ignore the fact that he was essentially staring at a woman's inner thigh, Ciel bent toward the limb and noted a kind of stamp imprinted onto the cold, almost life-like flesh.

"It looks like a hallmark of some kind," he commented in puzzlement, squinting at its shape. It was round, although frilled upon the edges. In its center there appeared to be some kind of animal rearing up on its hind legs, almost like a circus bear or lion….

A sudden spasm from his older sister startled Ciel out of his musings. All of the males in the room glanced toward her in alarm, for she had suddenly grown very pale and heaved herself upright with no regard for her damaged shoulder. She was pointing at the hallmark and fumbling for words. It took her several seconds to find them. "That- that's- _it! That's it!_"

"What is it?" Aberlaine asked concernedly, and she grabbed his hand, the sureness of conviction flashing in her eyes. "That's it, father! I'm sure of it! That's the mark that was on the man's ring, the man who left me unconscious in the alley the day Vincent Phantomhive died! It's the same mark!"

The room lay silent for a moment as this information was processed. Ciel found his voice first. "You're sure?" he asked, his tone a deathly quiet. "You're sure it's the exact same marking?"

"Sure as day," Lydia declared, overcoming her distaste for the limb and grabbing it in her hand, raising the mark to eye level. "It's just like I remember it. Just like I drew it from memory all those years ago. I daresay this is a bloody strange place to find it again, but there's no doubt about it. This is the mark, the same mark."

"Then we must find whom it belongs to, posthaste," the young heir declared, his fingers clamping down on his own ring. "Sebastian, the House of Lords, the Royal Archives; these are likely places to start. We will spend the night here while you repair the damage to the manor. In the morning we will set out for the London townhouse. It will do to be nearer to the locations of our investigation. Also, our attackers will have a harder time attempting to harm us without attracting attention to themselves on a busy street as opposed to an isolated manor."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian responded, giving his customary bow; his eyes glinted in the dimly-lit room. "The house of Phantomhive must not take such a daring blow as this lying down. We must begin to plan our counterattack."

"See to it," Ciel ordered, before his next words were interrupted by an urgent thumping from the hallway outside. The door burst open to admit an overly excited Finnian, while Bard ambled in behind him. "Young master, young master!" the blonde gardener exclaimed. "We finally found Mister Tanaka!"

"Excellent," the young boy declared, before realizing the ambiguous nature of Finnian's statement. "Have you found him….unharmed?"

"Yessir," the gardener nodded eagerly. "You'll never believe it, but it looks like he was sleeping in the library the whole time!"

Ciel didn't fault the sudden snort of laughter that came from Lydia's end of the room. "Good land," he sighed, bringing a hand up to his forehead in consternation. "That man can sleep like no other. Still, I suppose it's for the best. He has too many years under his belt to run or fight effectively. He could have been seriously injured had he been with us."

"Doubtless," Lydia's soft voice chimed in as she lowered her head back to the pillow. Ciel frowned at the exhausted circles under her eyes. Even with the excitement of finding the mark, she was still at the bottom of her energy reserves.

The young boy glanced toward the door. "You should get some sleep. I will go and send a letter-"

Lydia reached out and laid her bandaged hand upon his arm. "We all need to sleep," she encouraged, and Ciel realized that he couldn't look much better than his sister did. Nodding in agreement, he glanced down at the hand upon his arm and once again felt the inexplicable urge to unwrap the bandages, to study the star clusters…. But now was not the time for such a thing, the young heir realized as he noted that the others in the room were all looking his way with different expressions on their faces. Bard and Finnian seemed innocently puzzled, while Lydia and Aberlaine both wore looks of knowing patience. As for Sebastian, Ciel wondered whether he was mistaken to think he saw the demon's eyes flash with an apprehensive gleam. He gestured to the materials in his butler's hands. "Sebastian, secure those in the underground vault. We may need them later as evidence. Then guard the manor while we rest. And begin repairs in the kitchen. And make dinner with whatever supplies we have left."

Sebastian bowed and promptly left the bedroom. Ciel rubbed his eyes as he once again explained Meirin's situation to the other servants, much to their joy, and ordered them to return to their rooms and take a long rest. He then bade Lydia and Aberlaine goodbye for the moment and shuffled out the door, intent on finding his way to his own bedroom and losing himself in the thrall of sleep. His lips pinched downward when he saw the arrow-straight figure of Sebastian standing still before the stairway, gazing outward with an unreadable expression on his face. The young boy wandered up behind him, irritated that the demon was delaying his orders, and realized he was staring at the portrait of the "official" members of the Phantomhive family which overhung the stairs. The still, lifeless faces of Vincent, Rachel, and his own child-self gazed out upon the damaged manor, frozen forever behind the veil of intractability.

"What are you doing?" Ciel asked bluntly, folding his arms. He could have sworn he saw the demon's shoulders twitch before the creature turned around and gave him a placid smile, as lifeless as the ones in the painting.

"Nothing at all, young master. I was merely thinking of things which are of no consequence to my orders. Please go and rest until dinnertime." Sebastian turned and made his way sleekly down the stairs, disappearing momentarily from view. Ciel frowned at the vagueness of his answer- at the vagueness of everything around him, really- before turning on his booted heel and striding away toward the certainty of his bedroom and the promise of sleep.


	26. The City of Fog

**Notes: Before I start this latest installment, I feel that I should thank LackOfName, whose actual name I don't know (I think that was kind of the point,) for his or her extremely thoughtful and well-written review. You practically wrote a book report! And that's okay, because at this point the word count for this story is over 100,000 and I kind of feel like I'm writing a book. Anyway, LackOfName, thank you very much for being so attentive and thoughtful! I enjoyed reading your review very much. It actually gave me some new ideas for where to take this story and which characters to introduce to make it happen. So thanks again for giving me the creative impetus needed to keep this story going!**

**Also, if anyone is wondering what I am doing with my life as of late, I am now in graduate school. Woot woot! Enjoy the story! :)**

The forested landscape around Phantomhive manor seemed to be swimming in a gauzy bowl of mist as its inhabitants set out the next morning for London. Sebastian had packed all of their essentials and secured the manor the night before, and now they set off for Lydia's native city in two carriages, one driven by Sebastian, holding herself and her brother, and the other driven by Bard, carrying Tanaka and Finnian. Aberlaine was riding between the two carriages on a horse. As soon as they arrived in London, they were going to split up- her father would travel directly to Scotland Yard headquarters to report the incident from the previous day, the Phantomhive siblings and Sebastian would continue on to the townhouse, and the servants would travel to the Royal Hospital to visit Meirin. Ciel and Lydia had decided to hold off on visiting until she regained consciousness, as Madame Red had advised against overcrowding her quarters while she recovered. Aside from allowing them to accomplish many things at once, this strategy meant it would be that much harder for them to be followed. Sebastian wore a hood as he drove their carriage, and the siblings kept its windows tightly covered. Once again they had pried the Phantomhive crest off the front of its door, keen to arrive in London as anonymously as possible.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Lydia told her brother, adjusting the skirts of her dress as the carriage rolled over a bump. Ciel focused his visible eye on her expectantly.

"I am aware that your father accepted certain….duties to the queen which he took upon his marriage to our mother. Before that, those duties had been performed by our grandfather and by his father before him. The fact that our grandfather did not produce a male heir meant that the duties were passed to Vincent through marriage, as he wed the eldest daughter of the line. However, since Vincent and Rachel once again added a viable male heir to the Phantomhive line, that would mean-"

Ciel did not bat an eye. "Indeed," he stated, leaning back against his seat and squeezing his fingers slightly around the head of his cane. "I have inherited my father's position as the Queen's guard dog."

"_Have_ inherited? As in already?" Lydia inquired, raising her eyebrow. She had suspected this truth for a while now. While in her brother's office she had observed a plethora of correspondence from the royal palace, more than would have been usual even for a noble. However, she found it significantly strange that the Queen would see fit to thrust Ciel into this role well before he was of age. Of course, he wasn't exactly alone….

Ciel dipped his head in a nod. "To tell the truth, I have long suspected that the royal family is aware of the true nature of our butler, and has been perhaps for several generations. It is a taboo topic which never surfaces during my meetings with the Queen. However, I have always found it quite notable that she never asks about my methods and never seems to question how a thirteen-year-old boy manages to solve crimes which leave Scotland Yard stumped, and emerge unharmed from even the most dangerous situations."

Lydia frowned as she took this information in. So the queen knew about Sebastian, and had known all along. That would explain more thoroughly the order she had given to her mother back then, Lydia mused. It had been a play for the Crown's own interests, a gamble that Rachel's second and only legitimate child would be a male, an inheritor. And it had paid off- for Her Majesty. Lydia thought briefly of the letter from her grandmother which now lay in ashes in the manor's hearth, and bunched the fabric of her dress in her fist.

Ciel watched her hardening expression with puzzlement. "I assure you, Sebastian has been at my side at all times while I conduct investigations based on Her Majesty's orders. The sudden death of my father left a void which could not long go unfilled."

Lydia took a breath and forced a patient smile over her face. "Is that so? If Sebastian is with you, that significantly lessens my worry. Even so…."

"The one thing I am worried about, though, is the possibility that I might soon be called away to attend to a case which Her Majesty wishes for me to resolve. It has been some time since I had my last one, and if there's one thing I know about the underground, it never sleeps. My information network has been quieter than usual lately. Though that may seem like a good sign, I have learned with experience that it really isn't. It means something is brewing. However, to be tasked with a case for the Crown at this time would be most inconvenient. I am already devoting my full attention to the identification and apprehension of those who attacked our manor yesterday. And aside from that, there is the unsolved matter of the gunmen at grandfather's funeral, and that of grandmother's will, and the possibility that all of these things are interconnected. I am hoping whatever is brewing out there will stay under the surface for a while longer so we can sort all this out."

Lydia nodded in agreement, wondering what she ought to do if Ciel was given a case. She wanted to help him, of course, in whatever way possible, but she had no idea what that would entail.

At that moment, a soft tap on the outer wall of the carriage reminded them of Sebastian's presence. "Pardon me, masters, but we have reached the outskirts of London and will be dispersing to our separate destinations. I will take the least conspicuous route to the townhouse."

"Very good, Sebastian," Ciel replied. Out of habit, Lydia reached for the window's curtain to take a glimpse of London, but stopped as her brother shook his head. "Don't risk it," he advised, staring at the door with a determined expression. "We'll be there soon."

/

Lydia had never been to her family's extensive London property, at least not that she could remember. Despite the circumstances, it was almost a relief to take up residence in a place with no creeping memories or sinister shadows attached. Sebastian showed her to her room, a lovely flower-wallpapered abode with a curtained bed and a generous alcove facing east, toward the Thames River. Ciel was staying down the hall in what she assumed was his regular bedroom. They had eaten their lunches in the carriage while travelling, and Sebastian set to work making dinner in the kitchen while Lydia wandered the halls, observing. Signs of Madame Red's personal flair were everywhere, and Lydia guessed that the London socialite used this residence far more often than Ciel himself did. Finally she found the library, and settled in there to wait for dinner. She was tired from a day of travelling, and her wounded shoulder was stiff and sore. The fear still running thick in her bloodstream had exhausted her mind as well, and she tried not to beat her head against the tangle of obligations she must face now that she was back in London. She had to go to the post office and send her schoolwork to the appropriate departments at her university. She also had to stop by her office and see if any new work orders had come in during her absence. If so, she was going to have to take Sebastian with her. With a team of murderers out for her blood, it simply wasn't practical to be running about the woods on her own. She wondered what the demon would think of her ongoing projects. He was still a bit hacked off at her, she knew, due to her recent orders, but she also knew he would feel better if he was allowed to act as her protector again.

Dinner was a rowdy affair, seeing that the servants and her father returned from their outings halfway through and proceeded to give their reports on the state of things. According to Aberlaine, Scotland Yard had taken his information and opened a case on the matter at hand. (Lydia pretended not to notice Ciel roll his eyes and mutter 'See how far it gets them,' to Sebastian.) Bard and Finnian relayed that Meirin had not regained consciousness, but was receiving the best of care and was expected to return home in a week or so. The hospital had agreed to alert them as soon as she woke up from the sleep induced by the ether used to anesthetize her. Halfway through this, Madame Red arrived unexpectedly and insisted on hugging everyone, even the servants, even Sebastian, and Lydia was truly glad she had not died yesterday, if only for the chance to see the expression of highly controlled alarm upon the demon's face. Their aunt fussed especially over Ciel's and Lydia's injuries, and, though exhausted, Lydia was touched by the worry in her eyes. So it was that with newly applied bandages and travel cramps in their legs, the weary Phantomhive siblings practically had to lean on each other while trudging up the stairs to retire for the night. Lydia noted with a kind of sleepy satisfaction that Ciel no longer seemed so averse to touching her, although she knew far better than to mention it.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep eluded her as she tossed and turned in her unfamiliar bed, unable to silence her analytical mind that insisted on perusing all the odd details of the various mishaps they had encountered so far. Eventually she dragged herself, a book, and a blanket over to the fog-blurred alcove and curled up in the padded chair, reading by the light of the moon. She awoke in the early morning to find herself tucked back into bed, a warm ball of black fur snuggled beside her, delicate paws resting on her fingers. She smiled in amusement and slipped back into her dream.

/

The next day, the residents of the London townhouse began their work in earnest. Sebastian served breakfast, secured the grounds, and then embarked with Ciel and the carriage into town to conduct their affairs at the House of Lords and the Royal Archives. Bard began accustoming himself to the new kitchen, Finnian to the grounds and gardens around the residence. Tanaka sipped tea in the parlor, and Aberlaine returned to Scotland Yard to request his assignment as an investigator to the Phantomhive case. They had decided over breakfast to refrain from allowing any unnecessary persons onto the grounds until they could secure them more fully, thus, Madame Red was obliged to go to the front gates to field her many callers. _Not very discreet,_ Ciel had huffed before he'd left, and Lydia had to agree. Her aunt seemed to be quite popular. Fortunately, while all the ruckus was going on at the front gate, she was able to seize the opportunity to slip out the back and make her way to the nearest post office to send her completed classwork. That done, she proceeded to walk the five miles from the upper crust mansions and seasonal houses of Britain's wealthiest to her regular haunt down in Camden Town. Crossing the familiar streets, Lydia waved and inventively fielded questions about where she'd been to her neighbors and acquaintances. She was headed to the urban base of her workplace, after which she thought to stop in and see Thoms Weatherstaff and family, if she had the time. The grizzled carriage driver was the only one of her Camden Town circle who knew where she had actually been. The streets seemed different cloaked in fog, dimming the gas-lit lamps and obscuring the sun. People just down the block looked like shadowy specters drifting in between this world and the next.

She began to feel a nervous prickle down her spine as she walked through the ground floor entrance of her office building. Shivering, she jogged lightly up the stairs, tipped her hat to the almond peddler on his way down, and stopped off by the bulletin board to look for any folders with her name on them. Sure enough, there were two heavy yellow parchments tacked across the top, which she pulled down and tucked into her cloak. Her field assignments secured, Lydia ventured further down the hall, intending to check in with the manager and speak with her fellow employees, whom she had not seen in several weeks. She hoped they would not ask her too many questions about the phone call which Ciel had made from the manor to secure her an extended leave of absence. Her fellow workers were no more or less prone to gossip than most other folk, but she knew even they would find it hard to resist such an intriguing topic as their unassuming forestry girl's mysterious connection to British nobility.

Lydia never made it into the office. She reached the end of the hallway and drew up across from the desk where Irena Nelson, the office manager, conducted her affairs. Irena was not alone at the desk, however. There was a person standing in front of it, leaning halfway across the wooden partition, who seemed to be speaking very intensely. Irena looked a bit cowed, but Lydia noticed only the height of the person's body and the thick hood covering their head. In the time it took her heart to freeze, Irena peered behind her insistent visitor and smiled a hopeful smile. "Oh!" she called innocently. "Lydia!"

The person turned around, and in the shadow of the hood Lydia saw the ears full of piercings, the bright and cunning eyes, the deep blue teardrop tattoo. She threw the door closed and ran.

She heard Irena call her name again in puzzlement, and then in alarm as the assassins' leader quit her desk and came dashing down the hall after his quarry. Lydia nearly flattened several people on her way down the stairs, blurting out mindless apologies as she made it through the door and back onto the street. She started running in the first direction she faced, her mind a hailstorm of panic. They knew where she lived! They had found where she worked! Now they were coming after her, right in the middle of the bloody London! Lydia turned her head frantically as she raced through the crowds. Where was a constable when you needed one?! She heard cries behind her, and whirled to see the tall man tearing his way through milling pedestrians in pursuit of her. She continued running, her heart screaming every time she rounded a corner, expecting to be hit from the side by one of his accomplices. However, the further she fled, the more she deduced that he seemed to be alone this time. Quite possibly his group had spilt up and gone to separate places to gather information, not expecting to actually run into her. Lydia cursed her terrible timing as she hurled an umbrella stand behind her, momentarily knocking the leader's legs out from under him. She glanced desperately up the hill toward her neighborhood, then purposely turned and dashed in the other direction. That place was not safe anymore. Her assailant was dangerous and quite possibly armed. She could not in good conscience lead him to the Weatherstaff's home, or back to the townhouse where her aunt was staying.

As Lydia stumbled across the edge of Camden Town, she glanced to her right and saw the Royal Treasury looming over the block. Not only that, her eyes widened as she took in the line of royal guards stationed outside its gates. If she could reach them and make them aware of her distressing situation, her pursuer would have no choice but to flee. He could not possibly face so many armed men alone. Lydia raced in that direction, but as she did the sound of the footfalls behind her increased, and she knew the man had guessed her plan. A hand grazed her left elbow and she slapped it away with her right, eliciting a gasp of pain as her rock-hard limb bruised his flesh. Suddenly, the man was jerked to a stop just inches from Lydia's back, his own arm caught in the grip of a muscular fishmonger. "I say, lad, wot's this 'ere? That young girl don't look like she's a mind to be chased so!"

Lydia made it to the curb, thanking God for kind strangers. She skidded to a halt and frantically looked for a safe way through the tangled lanes of horses and buggies. A shout behind her caused her to snap her head around, and she gasped in horror as she saw the hooded man broken free, careening toward her with a look in his eyes that let her know, louder than any cry, that this was his final charge.

Lydia dropped all usual social graces right there on the curb. Dashing out into the street, she grasped hold of the front of a low-covered wagon and wrenched herself into the driver's seat, boldly seizing the reins from the hands of a gentleman dressed in black. "I apologize sincerely, sir!" she shouted as she gave the reins a heavy slap and the wagon jerked forward. She turned her head just enough to see a fraction of her pursuer's furious face before he vanished from sight in a blur of hoofs and movement. The haggard girl braced her feet against the curve of the seat-box as she hauled on the reins, not used to steering a team on such a narrow lane. Lydia and the unfortunate man she had abducted flew up the street amid shouts of alarm, nearly colliding with several carriages and a donkey, before finally making the turn onto a wider and more streamlined road. Lydia slowed the horses to a safer pace and leaned her head around the side of the wagon, searching the roads behind them for any sign of the assassins' leader. She saw nothing but regular people calmly going about their day. _It would be_ _lovely to be just a regular person going about my day,_ she pondered wistfully. Then, coming back to herself, she whirled to face the man still beside her in the seat. "I am so, so sorry for my abrupt conduct back there, sir. Truly, if it hadn't been a life or death situation, I would never have-"

Lydia cut off as the unexpected sound of deep, smooth laughter burst suddenly from the shadowed face below the man's hat. She stared in absolute bafflement as it continued, becoming louder, higher, more uncontrolled. The man suddenly threw back his head, and Lydia found herself looking into a deathly white face framed by gray hair with a small, dark trail of stitches just below the right eye. The Undertaker grinned madly down at her, his voice rolling out between bursts of shaking laughter. "Oh hoh hoh, that was just _too_ good! Too good, I tell you! You Phantomhives are something- he he he!- something else! That was simply the most diviiiiiine laugh I've had in ages!"


	27. On the Run

**Hello again, everybody! For those of you who are snowed in (like me,) and even those who aren't, here is a new chapter to entertain you!**

**Also, tell me what you think of the story so far! Or don't. But really, do it. XD**

"Great Scott," was the only thing Lydia could think to say as she stared up into the pale face of the cackling mortician. She remembered meeting him at her grandfather's funeral, but after experiencing the strangeness of his personality and the unease his comments had caused her, she had been quite content with the thought that she would probably never meet him again. Now she had hijacked his wagon, a fact which he seemed to think was the most amusing thing in the world.

"_Hilarious,_ that was! Oh hoh hoh, what I'd give to see that again!" Undertaker continued laughing madly, his face tilted up toward the fog-shrouded sky. Lydia adjusted the reins in her hands and kept her eyes fixed determinedly on the road.

"I didn't find it particularly funny. That man was trying to kill me," she huffed in disapproval. She supposed it was better for him to react in a comical way than to be angry that she had forced herself into his wagon….but it made a lot less sense from her point of view.

"Oh, but it was simply diviiiiiine to watch! The _expressions _on both of your faces! Ah ha ha ha ha!" The gray-haired man dissolved into another fit of laughter as Lydia looked on, nonplussed. She wondered how he possibly did business with the regular civilian population if this was how he reacted to disaster. She leaned her head over the seat-box and scanned the road behind them again for signs of trouble. Nothing she could see seemed to be of any concern.

Undertaker's smooth laughter slowed for a moment, and he propped himself up in his seat. "Hilarious as your driving is, my dear, I'll have to take those reins back now. We're about to miss the turn for the road I need."

Lydia handed the reins over to him and watched as he steered the horses onto a narrower dirt road which looked like it led out of London. She glanced toward the back of the wagon, wondering what was in it. "So….where are you going?"

"To make a delivery," he said simply, still chuckling under his breath.

Lydia shivered and clutched her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She wished she had brought some gloves as well. Now that she was no longer running for her life, the cold of the misty afternoon had begun to seep into her bones. "What are you delivering?"

He grinned, jerking a long, black-nailed thumb toward the back of the wagon. "Coffins."

Lydia stared in alarm for a moment before she reminded herself that he _was_ an undertaker, although a very unorthodox one, and coffins were probably a large part of his trade. She shivered again and eyed the road ahead. "Well then, may I travel with you?"

"I don't see why not," he replied, bouncing the reins in his hands playfully. "You've already provided me with pleeeeenty of payment!"

"But I haven't paid you at all," Lydia protested, reaching into her cloak for her purse. "Do you want me to pay you?"

Undertaker swatted her hand away abruptly. "I won't take a farthing of the Queen's currency!" he proclaimed, and for a moment he seemed quite serious. Then the usual Cheshire grin stole back across his face. "What I want is so much shiner than money- the very best, the most brilliant _laughter!_"

"Laughter….?" Lydia asked dubiously, and he nodded his head eagerly. "Well, all right then. I do seem to have given you plenty of that. Although I'm not sure what I did…."

The tall man burst into peals of hilarity again, and Lydia accepted that this was simply going to be the way it was with him. Perhaps he was a bit insane. However, he did not seem to want to harm her, and this was definitely an improvement over her previous company. She figured she could take temporary refuge at whatever place he was delivering the coffins to, and send a message to Sebastian to come and get her. Clearly they would need to re-think their tactics for living safely in London now that they knew these assassins did not care at all about attacking her in the middle of the day, and in the most public of places imaginable.

The wagon rolled past fields of cornflowers and wheat and barley. They were out in the countryside now, travelling along a dirt road with wheel ruts worn deep into the soil. Lydia could see grass growing over the dirt, however, appearing to have been undisturbed for quite some time. Wherever they were going, it did not seem to be a place which saw heavy traffic from the outside world. They soon settled in along the river Thames, and Lydia watched the fog dance like ghosts above the swirling water. She dug her fingernails into the seat in hesitation. She was aware that it was generally polite to make small talk while travelling with a stranger, but she was nervous about saying anything to Undertaker, lest it cause him to start laughing madly again. Eventually she settled on, "What's your name?"

"Eh?" he asked carelessly, propping his feet up on the front of the seat.

"Well, do people call you anything besides 'Undertaker'?"

"Sometimes," he said, bursting into a low chuckle for no apparent reason. Lydia waited, but he did not seem likely to elaborate, so she changed the subject.

"And how long have you been an undertaker?"

He looked down at her, or at least she thought he did- with his long gray bangs covering his eyes, it was difficult to tell. "Oh, a loooooong time. Much longer than you would know. I've helped so many customers get all nice and dressed up for their last goodbye party, yes indeed. Especially your relatives. So many of them I've known in life and buried in death." He chuckled again and grinned madly at the road ahead. "Someday I might even bury you."

Lydia did not like where this conversation was going at all. She was beginning to wonder whether she ought to jump out of the wagon and try to make it back to London on her own. But if she ran into the assassins on her way back, then Undertaker's prediction would probably come true.

The gray-haired man leaned forward slightly in his seat. "It was a blow to the head that killed him, you know."

Lydia frowned and raised her eyebrow. "What- killed who?"

"Vincent Phantomhive!" he announced, as if it should have been obvious. "Always bothered me, that one. I like to get my customers' stories right, you seeeeee. How a person dies is an important part of who they are, that's what I think. Your grandfather died as his body gave out of old age and excess. Your grandmother died of suicide by blade. Your mother died of illness. Plain and simple. But with him it wasn't. I tooooold them the results of my examination, but they refused to believe me. All the papers printed that he died of smoke inhalation."

"And you said he didn't?" Lydia asked alertly, her mind flashing back to the conversation she had had with Ciel in his study, when he had confessed his suspicions about his father's death. She was suddenly quite glad she had not jumped out of the wagon. She wanted to hear this.

"Of course not! I know more about the human body than anyone," Undertaker declared with a feral grin. "If he had died of smoke inhalation or burn injuries during the fire, and _then_ been bludgeoned in the head by the collapsing ceiling, there would have been burn marks on his head impacted by blunt force trauma. As it was, his injuries were the opposite. The head trauma occurred first, and then the flames razed him afterward and formed a kind of fire scar over the wound. Furthermore, there were no signs of smoke in his lungs when I took a look. You want to know whyyyyy?" He leaned toward her, as if he were about to tell her a fabulous secret. "Because he wasn't breathing when the fire was started."

Lydia gaped at him in shock. "So it's true, then!" she exclaimed. "Someone had to have killed him before setting the room on fire!"

"Yes indeed!" Undertaker nodded happily. "And _such_ head trauma it was, too. Almost as if he were fired upon by a cannon. The funeral had to be closed-casket because there was simply no restoring the head."

There was a moment of silence while Lydia took this in, her eyes fixed upon the swirling ghosts dancing above the river. "But who could have….and how….? And- wait! If all this is true, why are you _just_ telling me this now? Even if the authorities refused to accept your report on the cause of Vincent's death, shouldn't you have told Ciel what you found? You're a part of his information network, are you not?"

The gray-haired man laughed manically, a snatch of excitement caught in his voice. "All things have a proper time, my dear."

Lydia stared at him indignantly. "But- that doesn't even-"

"Here we aaaaaare!" Undertaker cut across her protests, indicating to the land in front of them. Lydia stopped her stuttering to turn and stare. She saw a wrought-iron fence standing before them, and….almost nothing else. The heavy fog blocked out all but the topmost spires of buildings in the distance. The only shape she could make out clearly was that of a clock tower, rising high above the rest.

"Where….are we, exactly?" she inquired uncertainly.

"Why, Weston College, of course. Only the most aristocratic and prestigious public school in all of Great Britain!" Undertaker announced with the air of an over-zealous travel guide.

Lydia stared at the dim shadows of roofs, unnerved. "_This_ is where you're making a delivery? What on earth would a public school want with _coffins?_"

"Oh, but my dear…." the pale mortician leaned over her, his lanky body suddenly seeming sharper and darker and far more menacing. "Coffins are needed _everywhere_ in this world."

Lydia's fixation on this disturbing statement was suddenly broken by the sound of hoofbeats behind them in the mist. She jumped and whirled around in her seat, staring vividly. The riders were too far away yet to see or be seen, but there was only one road beside the river, and she could tell they were coming her way. "Son of a gun!" she hissed, standing up abruptly and beginning to clamber down from the seat-box of the wagon.

Undertaker leaned over to watch her progress. "Oh? Leaving so soooooon? I was going to take your measurements for your own coffin!"

"That'll have to wait," Lydia determined, thudding her booted heels against the ground. "I'm going to hide myself in the mist. I don't know who's coming, but if it's anyone other than my family or Sebastian, you'd better not tell them where I am, or….or else!" With that, the young girl raced away from the road toward the wrought-iron fence, the sound of Undertaker's rollicking laughter piercing the fog behind her.

She ran along the fence line until she could no longer see even the silhouette of the wagon. She stopped when she came upon a large pine tree, throwing herself behind its trunk out of pure instinct. Biting her lip, she pressed on her chest to slow her breathing and listened with all her might in the direction she had come. She heard the hoofbeats cease, and then voices took their place. She was too far away to hear anything but the loudest words being spoken, but she could easily distinguish the chilling cadence of her assailant's voice, along with others. Blast it, how had he found her? Perhaps he had asked the pedestrians they had passed on their way out of London to direct him to the road they'd taken. Even so, they had not passed by anyone else during their ride through the countryside. The red-haired man ought to have no evidence that she had remained in the wagon for the full journey. For all he knew, she might have jumped out ages ago and was long gone. Lydia pressed her hands against the pine bark and prayed that Undertaker would lie, or at least act so bizarre that the assassins would give up on trying to get information out of him. He shouldn't have too much trouble with _that._ She heard his laugh rolling in the fog, and then more words. After a pause in which the voices of several people murmured unintelligibly, the hoofbeats began again, scattering and gradually fading into nothing. She fell against a tree branch in relief, closing her eyes and focusing on nothing but her heartbeat, its steady sound calming her fearful mind.

After several minutes of deep breathing, Lydia turned her eyes toward the interior of the fence and focused on planning her next move. She could go back to Undertaker's wagon and remain with him, but she wasn't sure that was such a good idea. He had given her some valuable information, and he seemed to have refrained from disclosing her location to the assassins, but nevertheless, everything about him made her nervous. She would probably be safer on her own from this point forward. Lydia hefted up her skirts and swung her leg deftly over the lowest branch of the pine tree. She didn't know much about Weston College, only that which was public information- it was a six-year, male-only public college for the sons of England's wealthy and influential families. It was made up of four different houses, each defined by its own color. She had no idea what the colors meant or how students were sorted, but the idea was a familiar one. A college was one step below a university in terms of the age range of its students. The youngest would be about Ciel's age, and the oldest around hers. She herself had attended Ramsay's Public College in West Chesterton until her graduation just over a year ago, after which she had gone on to the university. Compared to her old school, however, a place like Weston was palatial in size and no doubt outfitted with the finest and most expensive facilities.

Lydia continued carefully scaling the tree until she reached a branch that stretched out over the spiked top of the wrought-iron fence. Crouched over like a monkey, she crawled carefully onto it, feeling it slowly bear down under her weight. She was very glad Undertaker was not watching this process, as his hysterical laughter would have surely distracted her. After several tense moments in which she cleared the dangerous spikes, Lydia swung herself upside down on the branch and let go. She tumbled a few feet and landed on her back upon a lush, rich-smelling lawn. Brushing herself off, the brunette stood and began to hike toward the misty spires of buildings straight ahead. She didn't know much more than the basics about England's most prestigious college, but she did know someone who attended school here, someone who would hopefully be willing to direct her to a phone and provide her with a safe place to wait for Sebastian to come and get her. Edward Midford was in his fifth form here, and she had been told by her Aunt Angelina, who was friendly with everyone, that his house color was green. She only remembered it because it was the same color as his eyes, which she had not seen at all during the years she had been gone. She wondered, with a nervous twist of her stomach, how he would receive her.

Lydia wandered into the first building she came across, pausing despite herself to admire its impressive Gothic architecture. The inside did not seem to be constructed as a dormitory, but a place where classes were taught. The entire hall was silent, however, which she found odd since it was still the middle of the day. Feeling more self-conscious than she had outside, Lydia paced quietly past empty classrooms full of finely carved desks shining like burnished metal. The walls all had expensive-looking paintings hanging on them, and she could see her reflection in the tiles of the floor. After passing through several hallways, Lydia paused to admire a very long glass case full of rows of trophies. Each trophy had a single-colored array of precious stones embedded into its circular golden frame, and a swath cut in front upon which were engraved lists of names. Most of the trophies were decorated with green emeralds. Quite a few had red rubies, and a few more were studded with purple amethysts. Lydia walked alongside the wall-length trophy case, admiring the shimmer of the stones, until she came to one which stopped her. It was the only blue sapphire-studded trophy in the whole collection. Did that mean that whatever sport these trophies were awarded for, the blue house had only won once in all these years? Curiously, Lydia bent closer to the glass to read the names engraved upon the golden swath. Suddenly, her eyes collided with one that made her choke on the air inside her mouth.

Vincent Cantor.

Lydia gasped and pressed her hand over her lips, staring fixatedly at the unmarried name of the man who had gone on to marry her mother in order to claim her own privileged family name for himself. She read it again, then hurriedly retreated from the glass as if the form of the man himself had arisen in it. She stared at the trophy and it seemed to stare back at her, encrusted sapphires blazing like the bright cobalt of the Phantomhive eyes.

"You! Stop!"

Lydia catapulted away from the trophy case and began to race down the hall in the opposite direction of the voice, imagining her assailants had somehow tracked her down. She reached the door that led back toward the outside and yanked it open, taking a quick glance over her shoulder to gauge how close her pursuers were. Instead of rushing bodies and jagged knives, her eyes fell upon the muted tones of a school uniform. The person wearing it was standing by himself in the middle of the hallway, shrouded in a heavy black cloak. This foreboding appearance did not do much to allay her fears, so she turned to continue her dash through the doorway.

"I said stop! Stop at once! I am a prefect!" The voice was firm but awkward-sounding in its loudness, as though its owner was not used to speaking at such volumes.

Lydia halted and peered out from behind the door. A prefect might be able to show her the way to Green House, but he also might kick her out of the school grounds entirely. The brown-haired girl dithered in indecision as the hooded figure took the opportunity to approach. He was very pale, with full-blooded lips and dark circles under his eyes. His hair was shaggy and shoulder-length, obsidian black apart from a single streak of white on the right side. He wore a purple waistcoat and a dark purple flower over the lapel of his shirt. _If vampires were real, this is what they would look like,_ Lydia thought subconsciously.

The strange-looking boy halted in front of her. His eyes were brighter than his hair and clothes, and they swept over her in an appraising kind of way. "You. Show me your hands."

Lydia blinked. "What?"

"Your hands. Let me see," the boy insisted, as if this were a perfectly reasonable request in the current situation. Very tentatively, Lydia held out her hands, wondering if he was going to smack them with a ruler or whatever it was prefects did to rule-breakers. The boy took hold of them and began a thorough examination, turning them to and fro, examining the palm lines on her left hand, and tapping the bones in her wrists with his forefinger, as if he were a jeweler inspecting precious stones for flaws. Beginning to suspect that she was not exactly dealing with a normal sort of person, Lydia tilted her head as he finished his strange appraisal. "So…."

"These will do. Come with me," the dark-haired boy commanded, turning about and beginning to walk back the way he'd come.

Lydia blinked again. "I'm sorry, but what-"

"Come!" he enunciated with a sweep of his cloaked arm. "Before classes let out. Unless you _want_ to be directly dispatched from school grounds."

Grumbling under her breath, Lydia followed him warily up a flight of stairs and through an increasingly rising array of doors. She promised herself she would cut and run if he tried to lead her into any dark or isolated areas- for all she knew, he might be just as dangerous as the people she was trying to flee- but to her surprise, their final destination turned out to be the far side of an extremely large, ornate library. He had a bag of art supplies set up on one side of an oaken table, and what looked to be a still life scene arranged on the other side next to the window. The boy took a seat before the art supplies and pointed to his arrangement. "Stand right there, and hold out your hands."

"Now look here," Lydia uttered in bewilderment, "I don't see what any of this has to do with-"

The boy tapped his charcoal stick firmly against the table. He and Lydia eyed each other for a few moments before she moved to stand where he had indicated, deciding to buy herself a bit more time to think. She held out her hands and he regarded them thoughtfully. "Your hands are uneven. Unwind the gauze on your right one."

Lydia retracted her hands quickly. "No, I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, leaning forward to look at it again. "Its shape is fine."

"No, I'm sorry, but I can't take it off." Lydia said firmly, beginning to back away. They eyed each other again before the boy sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, all right. I suppose the bandages can add….character. Come back here and sit."

Feeling just a tiny bit interested in what he was going to do, Lydia sat down across from him and examined the still life before her. A stack of three books, each tilted at a precise angle, sat in the middle of a scattering of fresh-smelling purple flowers. The sunlight from the window beside them mixed with the grain of the oaken surface, creating an intricate pattern of light and shadows. The boy indicated to her hands. "See the largest flower, in the middle of the table? Pick it up with your left hand. Now rest your arm upon the wood right there. Tilt it a little. No, the other way. Good. Let the flower's stem rest between your index and middle fingers, facing me. Now bring your right hand over your left and interlace the fingers loosely. A little looser. Tilt that arm a bit this way. It should look very casual. Good. Splay the tips of your fingers a little….yes, excellent. Now, Don't. Move."

The boy brought his knees up to his chest, using them as a back to rest his sketchbook upon, and began drawing in earnest. His oddly light eyes flickered constantly between the page and the scene upon the table. Lydia watched him for a little while, deep in thought, before she had an idea. "Hey," she called, trying to get his attention. When the hooded boy did not respond, she acted like she was going to lean back in her chair.

"I said _don't move!_" he snapped, glaring at her as if she had offended him personally.

Lydia huffed and raised her eyebrow. "This may surprise you, but I did not materialize in that hallway for the sole purpose of serving as your sketch model. There is someplace in this school I am attempting to reach. I will let you continue drawing me _if_ you agree to take me there after you're done."

The boy closed his heavy-lidded eyes and sighed a deep, mournful sigh. "Oh, all _right,_" he grumbled. "Where is it you want to go?"

"Green House dormitory."

The boy sighed again, looking most put upon. "Bother. They're so _loud._"

"No one said you had to stay around afterward." Lydia retorted sensibly. "Just get me there straight, and you can be on your way with your picture."

The boy stared at the latticework of light and flowers before him. "Very well," he mumbled before dipping his head and continuing with his drawing. Lydia couldn't see what he was doing, but she could tell that he was concentrating intensely, so she remained silent over the better part of an hour as footsteps passed upstairs and the muted voices of students called and laughed in the hallways. She tried not to think too hard about not moving, aware that it would make it that much harder not to move. She wondered where Sebastian and Ciel were at the moment, and hoped they were still safely out running errands, unaware of her absence and possible peril. If she could arrange a call back to the town house before dinner, she could avoid throwing the whole household into an uproar and unleashing a worried demon upon the streets of London. All of that depended on whether she could convince Edward to help her, and that depended on her being able to find him, and _that,_ oddly enough, seemed to depend on her willingness to model her hands for this strange, morose-looking prefect. She was certainly having an interesting day, Lydia figured in dark amusement as the hooded boy set his pencil down at last. "I was finally able to finish it," he murmured, regarding the paper with an almost loving look before standing up slowly. "Well then, I suppose Green Lion is waiting."

"Can I see it?" Lydia asked curiously, setting the flower back on the table and rolling her wrists to work the stiffness out. The boy eyed her cautiously before holding up the sketchbook for a fraction of a second, enough time for Lydia's sharp eyes to see a richly drawn scene which seemed to actually improve upon the real-life version. "Wow," she gushed, following him as he began to wander out of the library. "It's fantastic!"

"Mmmmmm," the boy nodded, closing the sketchbook and holding it close to his chest. "I haven't been able to finish it for the longest time. I couldn't find the perfect hands."

"What's so perfect about my hands?" Lydia asked as they exited the library.

"They're small," he said, staring ahead of them ponderously. "Delicate enough to compliment the flowers without overwhelming them. And your skin is darker than most European skin, so it stands out against the light. And the wrist bones are perfect. There aren't any women in this school apart from the housemothers, and men don't have the right kind of wrist bones. They're shaped too much like cudgels. They're not graceful."

"I see," Lydia nodded, deciding to ignore the oddness of this person and make conversation anyway. Maybe he was eccentric because he was an artist. She had always heard that the artistically-minded tended to have rather distinctive personalities.

"I should warn you," he said suddenly as they rounded a corner, "Whatever you're doing at Green House will likely result in you being removed from school grounds. Non-employed women are strictly forbidden at Weston College, except for a few days during the summer. If Greenhill or someone else finds you, it will cause a considerable uproar."

"I'm _trying_ to remove myself from this school. I didn't plan on coming here in the first place," Lydia explained, eyeing the distant gates and biting her lip. "But I need someone's help to make it back home safely. I need to see Edward Midford, from Green Lion House."

The dark-haired boy paused for a moment. "Midford?" he asked, blinking in surprise. "Unless I'm mistaken, I believe he is fag to prefect Greenhill."

Lydia had no idea what this "fag" business was about; she frowned in worry as they made it outside into the dimming sunlight. The halls and paths seemed oddly deserted, and she wondered if everyone had gone back to their dormitories. "Be that as it may, I'm hoping he will remember that he also has connections to my family."

The boy turned his hooded head and gave her another appraising gaze. The light color of his eyes made them seem misted and impenetrable. "Who _are_ you?" he inquired calmly, as if it was just occurring to him to ask this after over an hour in her company. Lydia wrestled back the sudden urge to snicker.

"My name is Rachel Eddy. I'm an old friend of Edward's," she lied, smiling congenially. She did not think this boy was a threat to her safety, but being brought up as an inspector's daughter had instilled many rules of covert conduct into Lydia, one of which was to always use a fake name when discovered snooping around in places where she technically wasn't supposed to be.

"Is that so…." The boy murmured, brushing a piece of dark hair out of his face. "Well, I'm not sure how you got in here, but I will have Edward escort you to the gates. The students at this school need to be focused on their education. We can't allow women to be coming in and seeking them out to confess their….feelings. It's a distraction."

Lydia could not keep herself from scoffing at the bold assumption he had made. "Trust me, the only _feelings_ I have at the moment are those of impending doom," she declared, eyeing the gates again.

"Impending doom, huh…."the boy mused in monotone, tucking his hood more tightly around his face. A moment later, he stopped and gestured toward a gigantic building rising up from the earth before them. "Well then, we're here."


	28. A Clockwork Moon

Lydia stared up in amazement at the towering building before them. It was not merely the size of the building itself that impressed her, but the great expanse of fields surrounding it. The fields were divided by white paint into different sections, and each section seemed to be devoted to a particular sport. There was a great deal of noise coming from the back of the building, and on the right side Lydia could see the edge of what looked to be a substantial crowd. So this was where all the students had been. "What's going on back there?" she asked curiously.

"Cricket practice," her dark-clothed companion sighed. "This school has an annual cricket tournament that takes place on the fourth of June, in about a month or so. All the houses compete, and everyone makes a big to-do about it. I don't really care for it at all. Of course, I _have_ to be on my house team, since I'm the prefect. But that doesn't mean I have to bother about all of the practice games Green House insists on holding every week." He shook his head gloomily at the prospect of venturing near the crowd. "Come on, let's find that Midford fellow for you."

Lydia walked behind the trailing hem of his cloak, taking in the sight of the crowd as they rounded the edge of the building. There were layers and layers of boys gathered in a wide ring in the center of one of the fields. There were too many spectators for Lydia to see what was going on inside the ring, but whatever it was, the crowd seemed very excited about it. The cheers and yells bashed wildly against her eardrums. _This school certainly takes cricket seriously,_ she noted to herself.

The hooded prefect approached the edge of the crowd and touched the shoulder of one of the younger boys waving a green flag. "Go and bring me Edward Midford," he commanded simply. The boy looked like he had a mind to tell the prefect to bugger off, but then his eyes caught onto the flower in his lapel and he nodded obediently before vanishing into the crowd. Lydia waited in the throes of nervous tension, folding her hands to and fro and chewing on her lip. After several rousing cheers from the crowd which rattled her nerves even more, the boy reappeared, followed by a taller young man with short blonde hair and an honest face. He looked at the prefect first. "Hello, Violet. Do you need to speak with me?"

"No. This lady needs to speak with you," Violet said, sweeping his hand toward Lydia. Edward glanced up and his mouth fell open. "I will leave it to you to escort her to the gates after she is finished. She cannot stay on school grounds. It violates the rules." He waited a moment for conformation from Edward. "Midford?"

"Ah! Yes, yes, I will….do that. I'll see to it…." Edward trailed off, still staring bug-eyed at Lydia, who felt distinctly glad that everyone else in the crowd was too focused on the game to notice them.

"Very well. Goodbye, then," the hooded prefect directed to her before wandering away across the field with his sketchbook. Edward snapped his mouth shut and glanced down self-consciously at his clothes, which were covered in fresh stains of grass and dirt.

"Lydia? It's you, isn't it?"

"Yes," she nodded quickly.

"You've gotten….much taller. This is….a _very_ unexpected surprise. I must say-" he peered over her shoulder, as if looking for Ciel or Sebastian. "I'm a bit- confused. What are you doing here?"

"Well…." She forced herself to stop nervously folding her hands. "I didn't intend to end up here, exactly, but you see, there was a sort of….troublesome occurrence earlier today, and I…." She glanced up to see Edward still looking completely baffled, and decided to switch to the direct approach. "I left the town house this afternoon to go to the post office. And then I ended up being chased through the middle of London by one of the people who attacked Phantomhive manor yesterday. I was nearly killed, but I managed to escape and was brought here in the wagon of…..a certain _individual._ But that person followed me here, he and his companions, and I was forced to flee the wagon and climb over the fence before they found me. And now I seem to be in a troublesome position. I am told I cannot stay, but if I venture outside the gates I fear I may encounter them again. So I was wondering if I could trouble you for the use of a telephone and a place to stay, covertly speaking, until Sebastian arrives here to collect me back to London."

Edward stared at her in alarm, his mind working to process all of her information. "Someone is trying to kill you?" he exclaimed abruptly, glancing toward the fence.

"Unfortunately," Lydia replied. "I'm not sure who they are or why they want my life, but they have clearly stated their intent to take it."

"We had better get inside." Edward began to move hurriedly away from the cricket game. "The College's telephone is in the administration building."

Relieved that he seemed to have quickly grasped the situation, Lydia ran with him away from Green House's dormitory and back toward the center of the campus. They dashed past a fountain and across a perfectly manicured lawn. The eerie silence of the rest of the school contrasted strongly with the roaring melee they had just left behind. They approached another tall building with steps made of white marble, and Edward held the door as she hurried inside. "This way," he directed her down a side hallway lined with fog-shrouded windows. At the very end of the hall, he held another door open and Lydia entered a small office-like environment. The latest model of telephone stood in the middle of the desk, a candlestick phone resting on a polished stand. Edward lifted the receiver off the switchhook and handed it to her. "Hurry, make the call. Only prefects and their fags are allowed to be in here without direct permission from the Vice-Principal. I'm not sure where Agares is, but I didn't see him at the game."

Lydia took the receiver and quickly dialed the number of the townhouse, thanking God she still remembered it after the day she had been through. There were several moments of silence while the switchboard turned her call toward its destination. Then a suave male voice sounded in her ear. "Phantomhive residence, with whom am I speaking?"

"Hello Sebastian," she said balefully, taking the seat Edward had pulled out for her. "Have you and Ciel just returned to the townhouse?"

"Master?" he exclaimed in obvious surprise. "Yes, we have just gotten in. However, I expected that you would be back long before us. Where are you calling from?"

"Errrr….well, that's a bit of a long story, and I'm afraid I might not have much time. The important thing is, while I was out I was pursued by the people who attacked the manor yesterday. I managed to escape out of London, and I am currently taking refuge at Weston College, that fancy public school along the Thames. And it would be most helpful if you could come and collect me back to London."

"You were pursued?" the demon's voice jumped in alarm. "They knew where you would be?"

"Evidently so. I was at my workplace when I ran into them, or rather, the leader of their group. I believe he was trying to coerce my office manager into giving him more information about me. I don't know how he found out where I work, but it would not be amiss to assume they might also be aware we have taken up residence at the townhouse. We miscalculated in our dealings with them. It seems they do not care at all how public my location is; they will try to attack me regardless."

She heard Sebastian growl into the receiver, although he continued to speak with the façade of a gentleman. "Very well, master. I understand the situation. I shall confer with your brother and then come to you posthaste. Where at Weston College might I look to find you?"

"Hold on," Lydia said, and glanced over at Edward. "Where should he come to get me?"

"Tell him we'll be in the clock tower in the center of campus. Tell him to look _up._"

Lydia relayed the message and bid the anxious-sounding demon goodbye. The moment she hung up the phone, Edward ushered her out of the office. "The cricket practice match will be ending soon. We've got to get to the clock tower before the students start leaving Green House and filling the grounds."

"Why are we going to the clock tower?" Lydia panted as they broke into a run again, clattering noisily down the marble stairs.

"I have a secret place there which no one knows about," the blonde-haired boy explained, leading the way over lawns and walkways. "Also, I'm sorry for making you run so frequently when you've spent so much of the day on the run already."

"It's all right!" Lydia exclaimed, staring up at the approaching rectangular tower, looming over every building around it. "As long as I can run to somewhere safe."

Unlike most other clock towers, this one was not connected to a separate building, but was simply a tower standing on its own. They reached its base out of breath, and Edward led her to a small door fitted into its wall, reaching around his neck and drawing out a key from underneath his shirt. "No one ever comes here," he explained, "especially not to the top. People say the tower is haunted, but that's just schoolboy talk. I've never seen anything ghostly at all. Our clock is fitted with all of the latest mechanisms, so it winds by itself. Our groundskeeper cleans the glass and the cogs once every three months, but he just did it two weeks ago, so it's no worry about being discovered. Come on in."

Lydia ducked through the door, staring upward in curiosity. The inside of the tower was hollow, although the walls were very thick. Its center was filled by a metal staircase winding upward into impenetrable darkness, like a spinal column supporting the back of some strange beast. Edward walked to the first step and picked up a lantern, reaching inside its base for a wick and matches. He struck a light and motioned for Lydia to close the door behind her. "Unfortunately, there's still a bit more walking to do. But I promise there's a place to rest at the top."

"I'll believe you," the brunette replied, following behind him as he lit the way up the narrow metal staircase. She had been in a lighthouse once, while working on a case with her father, and this staircase was rather like that one, only quite a bit longer.

Edward glanced back at her in concern. "So, Lydia, might I ask for more details about the events of today and yesterday? I know what happened to you and Ciel at your grandfather's funeral, as my sister was there with you, but I have not yet received news of any further threats."

Feeling glad for the straightforwardness of the question, Lydia took a deep breath and launched into a description of the events which had transpired. She avoided a few details, such as anything to do with Sebastian's true nature or her own supernatural abilities, but aside from that she was able to finish the entire story before they reached the top of the staircase, which spoke volumes about its sheer, dizzying height. She tried not to glance down into the gaping darkness while Edward unlocked another door which opened to a comparatively small set of stairs. Ascending these, Lydia suddenly cut off her description and let her mouth drop open, staring in breathless awe. The giant face of the clock loomed just above them, glowing like a gorgeous harvest moon. Its glass was translucent, meaning she could look down and see the whole countryside stretched out below like a misty cotton blanket. In the center of the room, partly embedded in the floor, were the giant cogs and gears which made the clock run, whirring in a quiet hum. Around the outer edges of the room, Edward appeared to have set up furniture in order to make the place habitable. There was a fully dressed bed, several chairs, a desk, a bookshelf, a bedside table, a washbasin, and numerous household comforts which added an air of frequent habitation to the odd little room. Despite the worry still pervading her mind, Lydia felt a smile of wonder spill over her face. "Oh, Edward!" she exclaimed, "It's beautiful! Just look at that clock!"

The blonde-haired boy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and set the lantern upon the desk. He walked carefully over to the lampstand and lit the lamp as well. "I found this place when I was in my second form. The key was just sitting on a brick beside the door, as if they assumed no one would ever bother trying to get inside. I'm very proud to be in Green House, and I care for my fellow classmates greatly, but sometimes they can be a bit…._loud,_ you see. Rambunctious as well. I was having a hard time studying in my dormitory, and the students from Blue House practically had a monopoly on the library. So I kind of made this my secret place, bit by bit. You get a fantastic view when it's clear out, and the motion of the gears creates friction and generates heat. It's better than having a central fireplace."

Lydia walked around, delighted by the spatial ingenuity. "Did you carry all this furniture up yourself?"

"In pieces. I assembled it once I had it up here. I don't think it's actually against the rules- I've never come across a rule that says 'Students shall not design private study spaces in the clock tower-' but I guess I just prefer to keep quiet about it." The soft glow of a half-smile lit the side of his face. "Kind of like that secret fort we had outside Phantomhive manor when we were children, remember?"

"Indeed, that's what this reminded me of," Lydia nodded, a good-natured laugh bubbling in her throat. "You brought all of your play furniture into the old woodshed and put up a sign that said 'No Girls Allowed.' So naturally, I got mad and went to the kitchen and got Sebastian to let me borrow all the forks and spoons in the cutlery drawer, and I threw them at your fort until you relented and took down the sign. And then it was _our_ fort."

Edward chuckled at the memory. "You were kind of scary back then. Although I have to admit, it was more fun to have a fellow fort member than it was just playing in there by myself."

Lydia smiled. Through the clear pane of the clock face, her eye was caught by the movement of tiny pinprick figures on the walkways of the grounds. Students seemed to be streaming back to wherever it was they were supposed to be, casting flares of shadows out before them. "That reminds me!" she exclaimed, moving closer to the glass. "Who was that oddly-dressed person who brought me to your dormitory? He said he was a prefect, but his behavior was rather unusual…."

"Oh, him? That's Gregory Violet. He is prefect of Violet Wolf, the house for students who excel in the arts. They're all a bit like that, really. Eccentric. If you think his appearance is odd, you ought to see his fag, Cheslock!"

Lydia raised her eyebrow at the reappearance of the unfamiliar word. "Fag….come to think of it, that Violet fellow said something about you being a fag to somebody. What is a fag?"

"A fag is-" Edward started, before he was interrupted by a rapt knocking upon the door leading back into the stairwell. Lydia tensed and Edward stepped abruptly in front of her, staring hard at the door handle. "Who is it?"

"It is I, Sebastian."

Edward strode to the door and pulled it open. "You are remarkably prompt, master butler."

"Thank you, Lord Edward." Sebastian bowed politely before approaching Lydia, a troubled gleam in his eye. "Master, it is good to see you unharmed. Is your constitution quite well?"

"I daresay my nerves are a bit wracked," the brunette replied, quietly disliking the overly unctuous tone he used in the presence of those outside the family. "I don't know what we're going to do when we get back to London. This is dreadful."

"Indeed, master." The demon looked her squarely in the eye. "However, on the subject of returning you to London, I believe it may be in the best interests of all of us to refrain from doing so for the time being. I discussed this issue with your brother after your telephone call."

Lydia's voice rose in surprise. "What, return me to the manor? I hardly think that will be any safer at this point. And my father's house is currently out of the question as well- if my would-be killers know where I work, they might very well also know where I live and go to school."

Sebastian nodded calmly. "I would not ask you to reside at any of those places. I agree it is not safe. The young master and I are thinking of a different course of action- that is, for the time being, that you should stay _here._"

For a moment, Lydia was sure she had misunderstood him. At the same time she protested, "How could I possibly do that?" Edward chimed in with, "That's impossible."

Sebastian inclined his head in false deference. "Please allow me to continue. Master, while your brother and I were out today, a messenger from the Queen arrived at the townhouse. Your brother has been tasked with a case from Her Majesty, the details of which I am not currently at liberty to discuss. However, they involve this institution, and there is a high probability he will need to come here to conduct an investigation. Naturally, I would come with him. Therefore, if you were to remain on the grounds, we could all be close together in proximity and you would be much safer than if you were to risk yourself in London while I am here."

Lydia gaped at him. She could see all sorts of problems with this plan; before she could articulate any, however, Edward broke in. "Now wait just a moment, master butler. Far be it from me to interfere with Ciel's duties as the Queen's watchdog, but I don't see how Lydia could possibly stay at Weston. This is a male-only college. Moreover, Weston is a self-governing institution. Outsiders of any kind are not permitted on the grounds, apart from the annual celebrations taking place around the fourth of June. To be allowed here one must be either a student or an employee, and Lydia is in a position to be neither. If she were discovered, there would be a public uproar, and her attackers would likely find it all too easy to locate her."

Sebastian tilted his head slightly. "True, milord, you make several valid points. However, Master Lydia has likely already been exposed in London. Returning there would be no less risky for her than staying here. Moreover, I believe she is unlikely to be discovered, provided she does not leave this tower-"

"Now wait just a minute!" Lydia exclaimed, a touch of temper coloring her voice. "I hardly think sitting around in a tower appears anywhere on my list of priorities-"

"Your priorities ought to include your own safety, above all else," Sebastian interjected his eyes flashing briefly in impatience. "Either I or Lord Edward could see our way to bringing you food and other essentials. I had been a bit concerned about finding you a suitable place to hide, but it seems that problem has been resolved already."

Lydia braced her fists against her hips. "It most certainly has not! Aside from all the inconvenience this will cause, you cannot simply recruit Edward into doing something like this at his own school!"

"I must agree with the lady on this point," the future Marquess nodded, frowning deeply. "I value Lydia greatly, but I have made a commitment to this school. As a student of Weston, and especially as the fag of a prefect and a likely candidate for prefect myself, I cannot in good conscience break so many of our school's esteemed rules in such a flagrant way. I am bound by a code of honor to uphold tradition here, and-"

"But _milord,_ surely you must concur that there can be nothing more honorable than the assisting of a lady in mortal peril," Sebastian cut across the barrage of protests, his features lapsing into silent calculation. Lydia bit her lip, infuriated; she knew exactly what card the demon was playing. "Is chivalry not among the noblest traits of a proper English gentleman? Is it not possible that in a situation such as this, to uphold the larger spirit of honor and tradition which this fine institution embodies might require one to go above some of its more legalistic rules? And most importantly," the demon loomed above the unwary nobleman, going in for the kill: "What would you do if you allowed Miss Lydia to return to a situation which subsequently caused her death?"

Edward looked as though he had swallowed a lemon and then been hit on the head by a bat. Lydia hustled forward to interrupt this parade of false chivalry, but Sebastian gave her a look so fierce and unexpected that she halted in her tracks. Nearly done with his cloying spell, the demon donned his most sanctimonious face and finished, "I understand you may need time to think about your position on this matter. However, I would most humbly request that you please allow my master to stay here while Lord Ciel and I sort out our immediate plans for the future."

Edward swallowed tightly and nodded, and Sebastian smiled charmingly. "Much obliged, sir."

"This is a terrible idea," Lydia maintained firmly. "What about my father? What about Madame Red? What about the investigation we _were_ committed to until the Queen charged my brother with this one?"

"Master, please, at least give it some thought. Your relatives will continue to stay at the townhouse, and our work on the matter of these assassins will carry on as well. However, your brother cannot refuse a direct request from Her Majesty. I know that his anxiety about these events will be much lessened if he can rely on you to be in a safe, nearby location while he conducts this case."

Lydia's next argument became lodged in her throat. She sputtered gracelessly, unnerved by how quickly the demon had found both hers and Edward's greatest points of weakness. Sebastian moved his eyes toward the inside of the clear glass clock. "Lord Edward, I do not know precisely when the students of Weston take their supper, but I would imagine you will soon be missed if you do not hasten to join them." The blonde nobleman nodded, still looking dumbstruck at the conundrum he had found himself in. "I must ask that you refrain from mentioning any information we have discussed in this place. After dinner, perhaps you could see your way to smuggling some food back here? I must return to the townhouse and confer with my young master."

Lydia shook her head sharply. "Not tonight. Don't bother with it. I'm so bloody tired and overwhelmed and out of sorts, I don't think I could eat even Sebastian's cooking."

"Are you sure?" Edward asked, and she nodded, feeling yet another bubble of anxiety begin to well in her chest. "Edward!" she called as the nobleman moved uncertainly toward the door. "I am….terribly, awfully sorry about this situation. This wasn't at all how I wanted to re-make your acquaintance."

"It's all right," he reassured her, somehow managing to find a tiny smile within himself. "It's not your fault, these people trying to kill you. It's never been your fault. I would never…." He trailed off and flushed in the awkward silence that followed. "I….at any rate, feel free to use any of my furniture. Tomorrow I'll bring you food and water and fresh sheets for the bed. So….sleep well." He nodded faintly and made his way out the door, his footsteps thudding softly against the metal stairway, winding slowly into nothing. Lydia stared at the wall in a kind of disbelieving petrification. How had all of this happened so quickly, and left her so utterly unprepared?

"Master," Sebastian touched her shoulder, dropping the formality now that Edward was gone.

She shrugged him off. "Blast it, Sebastian-"

He seized both her shoulders and pulled her firmly around. "You may be cross with me all you like, master. However, I will not apologize for taking action for your safety. You forced me to go to London without you, and you were almost lost. Now I shall force you to stay away from London so your life might be preserved. I call that fair, wouldn't you?"

Lydia snorted and refused to answer. Sebastian laid a hand on the top of her head. "Please, master. Stay here and allow yourself to rely on Lord Edward's hospitality. Your brother and I will doubtless make our arrival here within the next few days. There are simply a few formalities to handle first." Looming over her, his lips cracked into a fanged half-smile. "So stay in this tower, like Rapunzel in the fairy story, and do not let down your hair."

Lydia sighed morosely and drew her left hand up to touch the side of his face, a tentative peace offering. The demon smiled fully and nuzzled the hand, near-silence overtaking the skyward little room. The cogs and gears spun in the center, sounding out a calming hum. Eventually Sebastian's eyes caught the clock's face once again, and he stepped back and angled toward the door. "I must return to the townhouse now, master. I shall see you again very soon, so in the meantime, do _not_ get into trouble."

"I can't make that kind of promise," Lydia replied, shaking her head. "All I did today was run some errands, and look where that got me."

The demon bowed and took his leave. "I shall inform your brother what has been decided here," he called over his shoulder as he vanished into the darkened stairwell. Lydia stood in the center of the room, listening to his rapidly fading footsteps. Then she turned and once again and took in the room before her. It truly was a cozy, ingenious little room, but it felt….odd to think of touching this furniture when it wasn't hers, of spending the night here all alone. The face of the clock was rapidly darkening as night fell upon it. She walked to the bedside table and lifted the brass candle holder, lighting the wick with the matches beside it. She forced herself to climb into the middle of the bed, trying not to dwell on the fact that this was _Edward's_ bed, and she was lying in it. She watched the second hand reach the top of the clock face, noting with relief that this clock did not seem to toll upon striking the hour. As full of anxiety as she was, her exhaustion from a day of flight and alarm soon overtook her. She had enough presence of mind to place the candle safely on the bedside table, and then her weary head fell back into the pillows and she lay sprawled atop the covers, fast asleep, her limbs splayed as if she had fallen from a great height. The humming of the gears provided a comforting passage into unremembered dreams.

/

She awoke past midnight without knowing why, and slowly became aware of the sound of raindrops spattering against the tower. Her candle had gone out. She turned her body over to watch the water droplets beading down the lunar face of the giant clock. For a moment, as her eyes crossed the pane, she thought she saw a tall, pitch-black figure standing there in the gloom. The next second, it was gone before her heart even had time to freeze. Lydia stared in puzzlement toward the definitely empty space before the glass. She re-lit her candle to make sure. Then she rolled over and drifted off to sleep again, the reflection of the moonlight staining her face a luminescent pallor.


	29. An Informative Exchange

**Dun dun duuuuuun...and the plot thickens. :)**

Three days later, it was raining again. Lydia sat on a chair beside the massive face on the tower's clock, trying to focus her mind on reading one of the books Edward had brought up for her. The entire day thus far had been dreary and gray, and the patter of raindrops against the thick glass pane was not helping her mood. The first few days here had been almost a relief; she had finally had time to relax, think things over, and generally feel safe from the outside world. From the contact she had shared with Edward, she had been informed that nothing suspicious had yet been reported on campus. She hopefully took this to mean that her attackers did not know where she was, and neither did anyone else at Weston. However, Lydia had not yet dispensed with her recent practice of placing a chair under the door's handle when she was alone in the room, so it could not be opened from the outside. As calm as the last few days had been, suspicion still lurked in the back of her mind like a creeping fog.

Now, however, Lydia had to admit that she was starting to grow a bit weary of the tower. She was not disposed to venture onto the grounds of Weston due to the obvious danger of discovery and expulsion, as well as whatever lay in wait for her beyond the gates. It was not merely her own safety that kept her in the tower; she was well aware that, should anything happen to her, her family and friends would be left behind with the emotionally painful process of reconciling her death, a fate which she could have spared them if she had just been more careful. She was trying not to dwell too much on the fact that this was _not fair,_ this should not be happening, her world should not be spinning in this direction. Those kinds of thoughts were poisonous and wearing, and really, she ought to have learned by now that it did no good to expect life to be fair. Even so, she could not help but wonder almost obsessively what was going on in London. What were Sebastian and Ciel doing? What of her father and aunt? And what of her workplace, for that matter? Were her fellow employees worried now that Irena had no doubt made them aware of the strange man who had chased Lydia from the office building? She had to think of a way to contact them. And on top of that, there was still the matter of the two field assignments now sitting blatantly on the bedside table….

Lydia sighed and closed her book, reaching out and laying a hand against the chilled glass of the clock face, which she had begun to think of as her 'window.' At least she had not been entirely alone these past few days. Edward appeared twice a day, before noon tea and after supper, to bring her food and water and clothing. Lydia had been worried that someone would think it suspicious if they found him nicking food from the kitchens, but apparently he did not have to nick it at all. The boys at Weston were allowed to request food from the kitchens or have it delivered to their rooms, where it was much easier to smuggle out. The prefects evidently had even greater privileges in this area, as they were allowed to send their fags to order dishes even if they did not specifically appear on the menu. Edward had explained to her the internal regulations of Weston- the responsibilities of prefects, seniors, and fags, the absolute authority of the headmaster in all matters, the distinctions of the four houses, and the school's dogmatic emphasis on tradition and honor. She had gazed at the floor to cover her discomfort when he said those words. She could tell that Edward was still struggling with himself over the fact that her presence required him to go against this code of tradition and honor he held so dear. Even so, Lydia trusted him enough to leave her safety in his hands, even if she could not suppress her instinct to bar the door to the hidden room, just in case.

"He's not bloody _there!_"

Lydia leaped from her chair in alarm, her book tumbling to the floor. In her musing she had completely missed the approach of a rather soft pair of footsteps on the stairs. She heard a thud on the other side on the door, and then a tentative knock. "Lydia? Are you in there? It's us."

Recognizing her brother's voice, Lydia flew to the door and pulled the chair away. The door opened to reveal Ciel standing beside Sebastian. The young heir was dressed in a very uncharacteristic schoolboy's uniform; beside him, the demon had donned a set of unrecognizable black robes. Lydia stared in blatant surprise. "What are you wearing?"

"What are _you_ wearing?" Ciel demanded in a scandalized tone, taking in her current garments with wide eyes.

The brunette glanced down at the black trousers and dark green flannel shirt upon her body. "Edward's clothes."

"_Why?_"

"Well, one's clothing options are rather limited when one is unexpectedly forced to flee across London, escape in a wagon, and take refuge in a clock tower with only the clothes upon one's back!" Lydia exclaimed, unable to bite back a smile at her brother's startled expression. "There aren't any women at this school, apart from the employees, and Edward wasn't about to go nicking their garments, so I had to make do with whatever he had to lend me."

Sebastian held up a suitcase at his side. "I have brought your clothing and other possessions from the townhouse, master. I am sorry you had to go without."

"Thank you, Sebastian. Come in." Lydia opened the door wider and the two of them followed her up the stairs. She carried her chair to the window and set it beside the other chair as the earl and the demon stared around at the intricate and cozy little room. "Sit down, you two."

"I've got to give Midford credit for this," Ciel remarked, choosing a chair as Lydia seated herself on the bed facing them. Sebastian wandered toward the other chair, looking calmer than she had last seen him.

"Indeed, it was very good of him to let me stay here. I was so out of sorts when I arrived, I never would have got to safety on my own." Lydia gave them a questioning stare. "Now really, you two, what is the reason for the strange uniforms?"

Ciel heaved a long, put-upon sigh that reminded her of the prefect from Violet Wolf house. "As of today, I am officially a first-form student here," he stated with an utter lack of enthusiasm. "I have been assigned to Blue Owl house, and Sebastian has entered employment as our housemaster. Our actual relationship is, of course, a secret. Only Edward is aware of it."

"You enrolled here as a _student?_" Lydia raised her eyebrow. "I understand you were charged with a case involving Weston by Her Majesty. However, could you not conduct your investigation in some….other manner?"

Ciel shook his head. "Weston College in an independent, self-governing institution. Interference from outside authorities is unwelcome and looked upon with suspicion. If I were to come here as an outsider, I would draw so much attention to myself that it would be almost impossible to investigate anything."

"I see," Lydia nodded, wondering how exactly this situation was going to work. "May I ask what exactly you are investigating?"

"Show her the file," Ciel directed to Sebastian, and the demon handed over a slim folder that looked to have only a few pieces of paper in it. She opened it and thumbed through a collection of six photographs and accompanying biographical information.

"Who are these boys?"

"They are students of Red Fox house, all in their fifth or fourth form." Ciel reached over and pointed to the top photograph, which hosted a handsome, smiling young man with blonde hair and a tailored suit. "That boy is Derrick Arden, son of Duke Clemens, cousin to Her Majesty the Queen. According to the letter I received from Her Majesty, all of these students have been neither seen nor heard from by their families for almost a year. And I am here to find out why."

"For a _year?_ That seems very suspicious." Lydia took a closer look at the photographs. "Could they be up to something illicit?"

"Anything is possible at this point. I've just begun my investigation. So far, I haven't managed to do anything but attract plenty of stares by stepping on the lawn accidentally. I got the Prefect Four's attention, but not in a good way." Ciel sighed again, leaning forward calculatingly. "I'm going to have to think of some way to get close to them to find out more about these students. I would just ask the Headmaster directly, but apparently he is very busy and only the prefects may see him. This whole thing is highly bothersome."

"I would say so," Lydia murmured, sliding the folder closed again. "That reminds me. What were you yelling about when you were coming up the stairs….something about somebody not being there? Did you mean these boys?"

"Ah. No." Ciel shook his head, frowning suddenly. "I was not _yelling_….I was simply frustrated. Yesterday Sebastian and I went to seek information from Undertaker, as is our practice for cases involving missing or murdered people. But when we reached his funeral parlor, he was not there. The entire shop was not there. Gone. None of his possessions were left behind. I cannot imagine what could have become of him-"

"But that's impossible. I saw him!" Lydia interrupted suddenly. "He was driving the wagon I jumped into in London to escape pursuit by the assassins' leader. He was the one who brought me here."

"What?!" Sebastian and Ciel exchanged glances of great surprise. "You were with him? What was he doing driving a wagon out to Weston?"

"He said he was delivering coffins," Lydia recounted, biting her lip. "He _is_ an undertaker, so I didn't think it was odd until we arrived here and I started to wonder why a public school would need coffins. The assassins caught up to us not long after, and I had to flee his wagon and hide in the mist. I suppose I could have returned to him after they left, but he was acting in a manner that was making me distinctly uncomfortable, so….I decided I would be better off climbing the fence and putting through a call to Sebastian. So I have no idea where he went after I left." She glanced over worriedly at her brother. "You don't suppose he could still be _here,_ do you?"

"Highly unlikely," the young earl shook his head. "This college has hundreds of students, and Undertaker is….well, not very subtle. People would _notice_ a crazy mortician running about."

"I suppose…."

"Even so, this doesn't make sense," Ciel protested, rubbing his head fiercely. "Why would he close up his shop and vanish into thin air _without informing me,_ but still be making deliveries as if everything were business as usual? And why would he bring coffins _here?_"

"Master, if I may interject," Sebastian requested as Lydia opened her mouth. "Did you actually lay eyes on the contents of his wagon for yourself?"

The brunette shook her head. "No, unfortunately, his wagon was covered. I just took his word that there were coffins in there. I suppose it _could_ have been something else. I didn't want to go poking around in his wagon when he was giving me a lift…."

"But why would he lie?" Ciel huffed in displeasure, causing Lydia to think of another unpleasant piece of information she would have to impart. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Actually, there's….something else I have to tell you as well, Ciel. While we were riding through the countryside, we began talking, and….well, the conversation didn't make much sense at any time, really. He was talking about how many of our relatives he's buried….and then, out of nowhere, he turned to me and casually mentioned that your father was murdered."

Ciel stiffened and Sebastian's eyes became hard and bright. For a moment, the only sound was the soft humming of the gears as they wound the clock. Then the young heir flushed furiously and spat, _"What?"_

Lydia quickly relayed a synopsis of Undertaker's commentary about the state of Vincent's body and the sequence of his injuries. Ciel's mouth fell open, and Lydia was not sure whether she was vindicating or further traumatizing her brother. "He finished by telling me that the head looked as though it had been blasted by a cannon," she ended, working her hands nervously. "Something other than the falling roof hit Vincent hard enough to kill him. He wasn't breathing when the room caught flame, so he had to have been dead before the ceiling collapsed."

The aura of the clock tower filtered through a hazy moment of shock. Ciel's fists hardened in his lap. "I _knew_ it!" he proclaimed without a trace of victory in his voice. "_I knew it!_ But why-" The young heir jumped up and began to pace before the glass. "Why would Undertaker keep this from me? For _years!_ All the times I've been in his shop, he never said so much as a single word! When I find him-!"

"Pardon me, young master," Sebastian interjected again, his red eyes flashing. "But I think we must consider that this news is coming from Undertaker. He has been a trusted source of information in the past, but his actions of late have been extremely suspicious. I too find it very odd that he apparently held onto this information for years, only to reveal it to Master Lydia during a chance encounter and with no apparent purpose in mind. We ought to weigh these facts before we implicitly trust him in this matter."

"He said to me, 'All things have a proper time,'" Lydia relayed as Ciel collapsed back into his chair, gritting his teeth savagely. "I have no idea what he meant. And there's also….another thing about Vincent as well."

"Something else? What is it?" Ciel demanded.

Lydia indicated toward the school buildings. "When I first arrived here, before I met up with Edward, I was wandering the halls of one of the academic buildings with no idea where I was. I came across an extensive glass case full of trophies encrusted with gemstones in the colors of the different houses. In that entire case, there was only one with blue sapphires. I stopped to read the names inscribed on it because I was intrigued. Your father's name was on there, before he married mother and took the Phantomhive name. Vincent Cantor. He must have once been a student at this school."

Ciel breathed deeply and touched the bottom of his contract eye. "Father…." His body folded suddenly, narrowing sharply. "I….I need to take a moment. Carry on….I'll be…." He waved off Lydia's concerned inquiries and rose again, striding back out the door and leaning on the railing that began the descending stairway. His back to them, he stared down into the blackness of the unlit tower.

Lydia bit her lip worriedly, deciding to give him room to sort through his emotions. She could not have avoided telling him, for to do so would have been to lie by omission and violate his trust. She leaned toward Sebastian and murmured, "Perhaps you could fill me in on any information you may have found about the hallmark on that woman's false leg? You and Ciel were at the House of Lords and the Royal Archives that day, right?"

"Indeed, master," Sebastian reached into his bag and removed another folder, this one hardly thicker than the last. "The hallmark we discovered on the leg is actually the family crest of a certain nobleman by the name of Baron Kelvin. He used to be an outlier in the former earl's social circle. According to the records, he was an upstanding philanthropist who contributed regularly to orphanages and established his own work house for poor children. However, all of that information is dated years back. The last report we were able to discover about him stated that his wife had left him for reasons unknown, and afterward he appeared to cease his charitable contributions and appearances in society. He left the London manor he once lived in, and we were able to find no further information as to where he might have gone."

Lydia flipped through the papers in the file. "I've never heard of anyone called Baron Kelvin," she muttered, before happening upon a photograph of the man himself with several young children. She took one look and almost tossed the folder back into Sebastian's face. "Holy Mary!" she gasped, her hands giving a sudden tremor. "That's him, all right! That's the man, the one who offered me the drink and left me unconscious in the alleyway on the night Vincent was killed! And look, there's the ring on his pinkie finger!"

Ciel did an about-face and returned suddenly to the room, angling behind Lydia and staring down into the photograph. "You're sure that's him?"

"Sure as day, it is! I don't know the children, I don't think I've ever seen them, but that man….it's him."

Ciel re-took his seat, bowing his head and adjusting his uniform restlessly. "All of this information, these clues….the vanishings at Weston, Undertaker's disappearance and his claims about my father's murder, grandmother's will, this Baron Kelvin person, the attacks on your life, and my father's history at this school….how does it all fit together? Where is the connection? I don't understand….I don't see it. We need more information," the young heir declared, lowering his hands and intertwining his fingers. "We have got to start this investigation in earnest."

"I want to help, however I can," Lydia declared, and Ciel nodded.

"First of all, we'll need a safe place to keep all the documents and evidence we find. Blue Owl dormitory is no good; it's too close to the general population. I suggest we store everything here, and Lydia, since you'll have time to do research, I want you to look through everything and report anything noteworthy you find to us. Sebastian and I will-"

Ciel was interrupted by a sudden chiming of bells from the direction of the academic buildings. Lydia leaned toward the window quizzically. "I've been wondering about those bells. Where are they coming from? And why aren't there any bells in the clock tower?"

"I don't know," the young heir shook his head, speaking quickly. "But they are indicating that afternoon studies are about to start. We had better return to the school. We will leave these folders here with you. In the immediate future, I will have Sebastian sneak into the records office and look for information on Derrick Arden and his friends. I'm not sure if Weston keeps records from former students, but it couldn't hurt to look under my father's name as well. I shall begin my investigation by asking around about our vanished students. I suppose I shall also inquire as to whether anyone has seen a person matching Undertaker's description on the grounds, although I still find that highly doubtful. We will meet again and share information as soon as I can get away from Blue house." Ciel stood and nodded up to his sister. "Be safe. Keep that chair in front of the door."

"Sebastian, wait," Lydia called as the demon began to follow her brother out of the room. "If you can, try to keep the morning and afternoon of this coming Saturday open. I would like you to come with me into the forest so I can complete the field assignments I have been given."

"The forest, master?" the demon tilted his head in bemusement.

"Yes, that between here and London. I may be in hiding for my life, but I still have a job to do. So do try to remain free of obligations on that date, so you can accompany me for safety's sake."

Sebastian bowed gracefully. "Yes, master. I will do so. Please have a relaxing evening; I shall return after classes with your supper." The demon turned and smoothly glided out the door. Lydia followed him to the doorway with her chair. As she pulled the door shut, she heard Sebastian say, "Young master, please allow me to carry you. These stairs are too extensive for you to descend quickly. You shall be late for class."

Ciel huffed, and Lydia could well imagine the look upon her brother's face as he grumbled, "Oh, all right, but you had best put me down before we get outside. I will _not _have anyone seeing me in such a state." The brunette stuffed her fingers into her mouth to muffle a laugh as she turned the door closed and braced the chair's back once again under the handle. Crossing the room, she sat down on her bed and opened up the suitcase from the townhouse, rifling through her familiar possessions with satisfaction. She hoped Edward wouldn't mind if she did a bit of decorative embellishing in this space. Her attention was more urgently drawn to the pair of files left behind by Sebastian. Picking them up, she laid down on her stomach and proceeded to review them piece by piece, committing every picture and written fact to memory. Outside, the rain carried on its tapping as the tiny figures of schoolboys far below fled from its reach, books and coats held over their heads like pleas for absolution.

/

That night, Lydia had a dream.

It started with the tapping. At first, she thought it was the rain still drumming against the clock's glass face. But it gradually grew louder, thicker, more insistent, until her dream-self sat up in bed and peered around the midnight darkness of the tower. The moon glowed unnaturally bright through the glass, and she could see the entirety of the empty room illuminated. The tapping sounds disturbed her, like fingers against some solid surface. It seemed to be coming from outside the door. In her dreaming state, Lydia did not feel afraid. She was not aware that she was dreaming. She crawled out of bed, adjusted her nightdress, and walked over to the desk and lit the lantern. Taking it in her bandaged hand, the young girl padded over to the door and pulled the chair away. She opened it to a wall of blackness. She could not see the stairway or the railing; it looked as though the space beyond the door had made itself a void, darkness so thick she felt she'd gone blind. Still the tapping continued, now sounding as though it were coming from the bottom of the spiral staircase which should have been in front of her. Lydia held her lantern higher and stepped into the void, and immediately the hollow interior of the tower sprang into existence, as if it had merely been waiting for her touch. She walked to the railing and lifted her light high above her head. The glow of the lantern was many times brighter than a natural flame. It illuminated the spiral steps all the way to the bottom. There was someone down there, standing in the center of the swirling stairway. He was dressed in a black suit, with a black top hat on his head. Lydia could only see the margins of his face underneath the hat's brim, but his features looked familiar to her.

"Hello?" she called, her voice echoing down the funnel of empty space. "Who are you?"

The figure did not answer, nor did he move, but Lydia was certain she knew who it was.

"Derrick Arden?" she questioned, beginning to move down the long spiral stairway, still leaning over the edge to keep him in her view. "It's you, isn't it? What are you doing here? Where have you been?"

The disembodied tapping stopped. She heard nothing, not even breathing. In one swift move, at an angle that should have been impossible, he wrenched his neck back and looked up at her. Her eyes caught his, and Lydia suddenly remembered _fear._ There was something wrong with his face. His eyes neither moved nor shone. They stayed frozen in a single direction, the flesh around them dried and tuckered. His skin was pale and waxen, and his mouth was spread open into the most horrible, rictus grin she had ever seen. The teeth were jutted out like sabers and the lips peeled back unnaturally, leaving dry, gray gums gaping out over the gullet of the throat. Lydia looked upon him and felt a shaft of horror spear her heart. She dropped the light and _screamed._

She was still screaming when she screamed herself awake. Lydia sat bolt upright in her bed, enormous eyes scanning the shadowed room around her. Then she screamed again. She had seen it- only for a second, but so solidly that she knew it had been there- that same tall, pitch-black silhouette looming silently beside the rain-soaked glass. Lydia threw herself out of bed, grabbed the legs of the nightstand, and hurled it at the space in the corner of the clock face. It hit nothing but the glass, making a tremendous 'gong' and crashing brokenly to the floor. Lydia grabbed her candle and tore at the matches, sure that the eerie specter would sneak up behind her while she struggled to light the blasted thing. A tiny flame finally kindled, Lydia held it out in a shaking hand and whirled around, casting crazy shadows about the room as she searched for the shadow that had woken her. She saw nothing. Bolting over to the desk, Lydia lit the rush lamp and then illuminated the other lamp Sebastian had brought up that evening. The room considerably brighter, Lydia raised her bandaged arm defensively and began to pace methodically across the floor. The room had a perfectly rounded interior- there were no dark corners to hide in. Her heart on the verge of bursting, Lydia checked behind every piece of furniture and around every side of the perpetually turning gears. She checked under the desk and even under the bed, although she had to do it from a distance in case anything jumped out at her. She looked up into the reaches of the ceiling and down upon the silent grounds far below. Then she tiptoed down the small flight of stairs and stood dumbly in front of the door. The chair was still fitted tightly underneath the handle. Shivering, she clutched her arms and listened for tapping. She heard nothing. The rain had stopped. A half-insane part of her mind wanted to open the door and step out into the hollow blackness, cast her lantern over the railing and see if Derrick Arden really was waiting far below. Lydia backed away from the door, afraid she might really be possessed to do it, and fled back into the room. She had to check under her bed again and under her covers before she climbed in, pulling them up to her chin and staring fixatedly at the spot where she had seen the silhouette. She wondered what she would do if it reappeared. She was sure she could not stay in the room with it, but running out the door and down the stairs into the dripping dark below held its own mortal terrors. Lydia was almost tempted to rip the bandages off her arm and escape into the light, although in her current disjointed mental state, she had no idea where she would end up if she did so. She squeezed her body to itself and prayed.

The silhouette did not return, and the atmosphere seemed to become less heavy. Lydia was eventually able to lie down again, but she did not sleep. She held onto the candle and let it burn down to a stub, her mind ablaze and actively seeking to avoid gazing into the dimness surrounding her ring of light. She stayed awake until the morning came and sunlight flushed golden through the giant circular clock, scrubbing the darkness from the floors and walls. At last, her candle flickered out and her hands dropped onto the sheets as she unknowingly passed over into dreamless slumber. Even so, an ominous foreboding trailed her into her rest.

It was the first nightmare she had had since she left the manor.

**Well, I hope that didn't scare anyone too much. I apologize if you were reading that last part alone in the dark. In the past, I've occasionally had some...rather strong reactions to my writing. It's the power of words, I tell you!**

**Anyway, thanks for reading. Tune in next time to see what the heck is going to happen next. **


	30. Hampstead Heath

**Well, I'm back again with another chapter. This one was more difficult to write, so I hope I did okay. Confession: I am not a biologist. Whenever I write about Lydia's job or her studies, I have to do a bunch of research first. **

**Anyway, READER POLL! I'm curious to know who our favorite characters were in the Weston College arc. Also, how do we feel about the arc in general? I myself had a few problems with it, mainly that the cricket match seemed to take forever, and also that the characters were discarded so quickly at the end. However, being that this is my version of the storyline, I can make things different, so I'd like to know what my readers think. :)**

"Master, really. This is most indecent. And you are going to get yourself soaking wet."

"That's the plan," Lydia replied cheerfully, discarding her undershirt atop the clothing pile at her feet and feeling the early summer wind brush softly across her bare breasts. "It won't do to slop around the forest in soaking wet clothes, so this is the best way. And you are absolutely forbidden from looking. That's an order."

"But master," the demon protested, eyeing the waterline of the deserted lake before them, "How am I to know you are all right? If you would let me go down and retrieve it instead-"

"Stuff and nonsense," Lydia countered, and Sebastian heard the shuffle of hair as the girl tied her brown locks up in a ribbon. "Just listen to my vibrations underneath the water. You'll be able to tell if something goes wrong, and _then_ you may look to come and get me. But trust me, nothing of the sort will occur. I've done this many times before."

"You will catch cold."

"Don't fuss," Lydia scolded, dipping her bare feet into the lake while Sebastian, his back turned, listened to the brush of skin on skin as she waded into the shallows. "I'll be right back." There was a splash, and then he heard the stroking sounds of her arms as she swam out into deeper water and stilled, treading over the location of her quarry. Another splash sounded as her head submerged, and then his ears alone could discern the shifting sounds of lake water being parted as her body descended into its bosom.

Lydia swam downward toward the shadowy realm of the lakebed, her naked body streamlined in the blue-green water. She spotted what she was after right away; a small metal trapping device with a hinged door that only opened inward, full of a sifting mass of newts. Smiling victoriously, the young girl quickly unlatched the trap from its links to the rock-weights around it, seized it, and kicked off from the muddy bottom, her lungs' buoyancy and need for oxygen driving her upward until she broke the surface like a cork popping out of a bottleneck. Sputtering, she checked to make sure the trap was still secure in her bandaged hand before swimming one-armed back to shore. She waded out of the lake streaming water and set the trap in a patch of grass. "Sebastian, the bath towel, please."

Without turning around, the demon handed her a fluffy towel with a large 'W' monogrammed onto it. Lydia shivered slightly as she toweled off her hair and set about drying herself from the top down. Once she was no longer damp, she strode over to her discarded clothing pile and dressed quickly, pulling on a black pair of breeches, a tan flannel shirt, a pair of woolen socks and heavy shoes, a sturdy canvas belt, and a long overcoat with many pockets. "All right," she said, sitting down beside the dripping trap, "I'm decent. You can look now."

Sebastian turned around and raised his eyebrow at the odd sight. "Master, if I may ask, what is the purpose of trapping newts on the lake bottom and then dredging them up like this?"

"I don't trap them to keep. I trap them to count," Lydia replied, reaching into one of her pockets and removing a single leather glove. "This is one of the ways we do population research on the species in these areas. These are palmate newts. Aren't they cute?" She smiled endearingly at the speckled amphibians, reaching into another pocket and propping a notebook and pencil against her knee. "They were suffering rapid depopulation in these areas a few years ago. We had some unseasonably long winters that shortened the growth period of the lakeweed they feed off of and live in. When one animal population gets jogged out of kelter, the whole biosphere is destabilized." Scribbling quickly, she jotted down several categories in her notebook. "But the fact that so many managed to find their way into this trap means that they must be coming back in large numbers. And if they're here, it means the lakeweed they depend on is recovering too, and _that_ means that other animals who eat the weed, like frogs and ducks, have a positive population projection as well." She hummed enthusiastically and unlatched a small door at the top of the cage. "I'm going to take a look at them before I let them go, see how many males and females we've got and what their health is like. Sebastian, your job is to keep a count of the grand total of overall newts. All right?"

"Yes, master," the demon settled onto the grass beside Lydia, smiling in amusement at her very unladylike partiality to the slimy creatures. The brunette reached into the cage with her gloved hand and picked up one newt at a time, turning them over gently as their tails flipped about. Her ungloved hand took notes as she examined them, then placed them by the water's edge and let them waddle their way back into the lake. Sebastian let her work in silence, thinking to himself that she _would_ have found a way to procure a most unusual job such as this. It disconcerted him to think of Lydia spending so much time wandering around in the woods alone. At least she'd had the sense to ask him to come along this time.

"Awww, looks like this poor chap's missing a leg. He looks hungry, too. Here you go, little one," Lydia reached into the cage and removed some lakeweed from the bottom, placing the one-legged newt in the middle of it. The creature immediately dug its head into the fronds. "They don't actually eat the weed, you know. Newts are carnivorous. They eat tadpoles and other invertebrates, as well as the microorganisms that build up on the weeds' surface. That's why they live there." Sebastian chuckled, and Lydia made an indignant face at him. "What? What's so funny about science?"

"That fact that you are a part of it is funny, master. Did you not used to be afraid of things that lived in the water? I remember quite clearly, you used to climb up on my shoulders and hang onto my neck whenever the family took a trip out to the lake beside the manor grounds. You would not even dip your toes in, not even to please your mother."

Lydia blew a damp strand of hair out of her face as she released the last newt. "Well, that lake was….different. It wasn't always like _that._ When I was a young girl, we used to play there all the time, remember?- but one day it….changed. I could feel it. As it turned out, there _was_ something underneath the water, so I was right to try to stay away. It still got my arm in the end, though." The young girl stretched out her bandaged arm, gazing at the drying gauze. "But it's all right. I don't regret what I did. Anyway, that thing is gone now." She stared out across the lake, her face taking on a strange shadow. "Well then, Sebastian, how many newts did we have?"

"Twenty-two, master," the demon replied softly, a thread of worry stirring within him.

"Is that so? Then we've passed the critical mark. I don't need to re-set this trap right now. Just a moment…." The young girl dug into her pockets again, striding down to the lakeside. Balancing upon a set of stones half-way submerged in the water, she drew out a vial and dipped it in, then stoppered it and replaced it in her pocket. She hopped back to shore and stared down at the one-legged newt, still struggling to maneuver in the ball of lakeweed. "I suppose I had better put this little one back in the water. He's probably going to die; he can't compete with the others to find food. I would take him home, but the water we have available doesn't contain the nutrients he needs, so he would die anyway." She sighed, picked up the newt in its nest of weed, and carried them down to the water's edge. "When I was younger, I had trouble with this part of the job. Sometimes I still do. It's not easy to just let life happen, even if we must." Sebastian joined her at the water's edge, his face an inscrutable blank as the brown-haired girl dipped the nest into the lake and watched the struggling newt sink with it. He wondered if he ought to have left the past alone, as it seemed to have darkened her mood. Taking one last look over the sun-bright waters, Lydia marched back to her supplies, tucked the journal away, and wrapped a swath of canvas around the empty trap. Sebastian lifted it and followed her as they headed into the heart of the deciduous forest. They had been roaming around Hampstead Heath all day, inspecting various plant and animal populations, having "borrowed" two of the horses in Weston's stables to bring them here. It was clear that Lydia had been monitoring this particular location for a while. She knew what to look for without interfering with the forest, and she knew all the best places to observe various woodland creatures without disturbing them. She had been in a cheerful mood for most of the day, but now she had fallen silent. Frowning, Sebastian walked quietly at her side over several hills before uttering, "I am sorry, master."

"Eh?" Lydia peered up at him, her blue eyes speckled with confusion.

"I am sorry I mentioned that time, but also…." The demon's claws gripped the metal trap tightly, "I am sorry I could not protect you back then. You almost died, and I could not stop it. As your servant, I failed you."

The young girl shook her head and nudged him slightly. "It's all right, Sebastian. It wasn't your fault, what happened that night. I know you tried to stop it. But it needed to happen, no matter how much pain I went through. I'm much better now than I was back then," she assessed, examining her bandaged arm like it was a rare artifact. "And anyway, if I hadn't lost my arm, I would have lost my brother. I made my choice."

Sebastian growled lowly. "But master, because of _that_….you left."

Lydia stared sharply into his eyes. "Liar," she jabbed him swiftly in the chest with her finger. "Don't you try to blame that on anyone but yourself. It _was_ your fault I had to leave. You knew what you were doing to me, all those years. I had to become strong enough to overcome the darkness _you_ filled me with, and I couldn't do that with you following me around, meddling in my life." She sped up so she was walking ahead of him. "Even though you worked so hard to preserve my life, you nearly destroyed me."

Sebastian bit his lip and cursed inside his mind. He did not understand this type of situation. He knew the reason Lydia mistrusted him had everything to do with her realization of his true nature in the past. The fact that he had tried to corrupt her in order to eat her soul seemed to him completely natural and practical, considering that he had had no better use for her at the time. However, now that fact stood between them like a concrete wall, and it seemed like whenever the demon tried to pull her closer, to latch his claws around her mind, he was always running into it. But he did not comprehend how to make it go away. He knew better than to think he could trick her or woo her into coming to him, not his master. Lydia was not desperate, nor was she stupid. But aside from that, what was it that made wrongs disappear? He had seen humans come together again after one of them had betrayed or hurt the other, but he did not understand how or why that process worked. The simpering fools called it "love" or "forgiveness," but he was sure there must be some darker motivation behind it, something he could appeal to. He pondered deeply as he followed his master at a respectful distance, watching as she paused here and there to gather samples of peat moss, clay, and stream water. They had started up another hill when it suddenly came to him, so obvious that he could have slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier. He caught up to Lydia and seized her hand.

"Master, please," he murmured, rearranging his features into a paragon of humility and kneeling at her feet. "I wish to prove my remorse to you. Words are cheap and fleeting, and I am aware that an apology alone will not suffice. So please-" he looked up at her, making his eyes wide and sincere, "please punish me for my wrongdoings. Let my pain gratify you until you feel you are avenged." He bowed his head, releasing her hand and waiting for the blinding agony, forcibly reminding himself that it would be worth it if he could just get rid of that wall.

Nothing happened. The demon glanced up and found his master staring down at him, a gleam of trepidation and weariness in her eyes. "Get up, Sebastian," she commanded. He stood uncertainly, and the young girl turned her back on him and continued her trudge up the hill.

Sebastian ground his teeth together, but kept his voice placating. "Master- wait!" He hurried after her. "Master, please, I am in earnest. I only wish for you to gain retribution for the wrongs you hold me to. And eye for an eye will even the balance, yes?"

Reaching the top of the hill, Lydia sat down so abruptly that Sebastian almost walked past her. She stared down the hill before her as he settled tentatively beside her. "….Master?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Sebastian," she declared, gazing at him in a piercing way that made him want to look away. "Even if I did, it wouldn't even any balance. That's not how it works." She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. "Besides….you're the only one who has to exist within yourself, for the rest of eternity. What you are is punishment enough. You hurt yourself far more terribly than anyone else will ever be able to hurt you." She eyed him sadly, the wind stirring wisps of hair about her face. "Stupid demon."

Sebastian stared at her, overturning his mind to think of some way to refute her. The hated suspicion that he had lost this round crept acidly into his mind, and he still didn't know _why._ He felt the prick of something harsh within the bone in his hip, and he winced hard. Lydia reached out and clasped his hands in hers, taking the pain away. "You are so frustrating, Sebastian," she grumbled sternly. "I know you can't help being like this, not anymore, but even so…." She ran her fingers over the pentacle upon his hand. "….Isn't it miserable?"

The demon closed his eyes and curled up closer to her. He did not know what to do. He spent so much time trying to break from the pain, trying to kill off any weakness that could bring it closer, and yet he still ended up in these situations, lost in a realm he could not comprehend. He clutched his hands to his head, bringing hers with them. "I do not understand, master."

Lydia rubbed his head softly, as though she were petting him in his cat form. "I know," she said, and nothing more. The wind sloped up the hill and whispered all around them, and the life of the forest called out like an invisible spirit in the trees. The young girl watched the blue of the sky deepen to the shade of her eyes, breathing softly as the tired demon slowly fell asleep on her shoulder, his face sunken into melancholy resignation.

She let him sleep for several hours, and she nearly fell asleep herself at one point, but the windstorm of thoughts whirling in her mind kept her awake. The road before her was full of uncertain variables, and with so many unconnected mysteries hanging about her family, she knew she must take action to protect those she loved, especially Ciel, who was in just as much danger as she had been all those years ago. She had to ensure he had the chance to save himself. To that end, she had to ensure he remained safe for long enough to do so.

Lydia rubbed Sebastian's slackened fingers in a combination of affection and exasperation. The demon had his own agenda, and she knew he would do whatever he could to win her over. At the moment, she was a bit frustrated with herself. She _knew_ he was a demon, so why did it still make her sad to see his face, perfectly composed as silver lies rolled off his tongue? Why did it hurt to watch him move like an actor on a stage, playing up his false regret? She ought to expect this from him, accept that this was all that he _was_….but even so, a small, foolish, childish part of herself still wanted to believe he could do better, could be something other than self-obsessed and evil. She sighed again, biting her lip. He had honestly looked surprised when she had called him a liar. He truly didn't understand what she wanted from him. She knew he could fake any emotion almost perfectly, and if she wanted to, she could allow herself to forget it wasn't real, forget and enjoy the masquerade….and yet, some harsh and wild part of her soul refused to accept this. She wanted something real, or nothing at all. And since he could not give her that, she could not acquiesce to his desire to stay by her side. She had to move forward with her own purpose. She eyed the sleeping demon, and grimaced softly. "Sorry Sebastian," she murmured, shrugging off his dark-topped head. "I cannot permit either of us to be selfish now."

/

"You want me to do _what?_" Sebastian gaped at her, his eyes flashing angrily. Had he been a less graceful being, Lydia felt he would have fallen off the horse he was currently riding on the road back to Weston College.

Riding beside him on a chestnut mare, Lydia did not allow him to stare her down. "I want you to do exactly as I said. This is an order. A hypothetical order, but an order nonetheless. If the time should ever come when Ciel and I are both in mortal danger, and you do not have the option of safeguarding us both, you must go to him and leave me to whatever fate finds me." Sebastian looked to be too furious for words, so Lydia carried on. "Of course, if you _can_ save us both, I would prefer you do that, since I do not particularly want to die anytime soon. However, if it is not possible, you will save Ciel. This order will remain in effect from this moment until I am no longer living, at which point you will no longer be bound to obey me." She gazed sternly at the unhappy demon. "Understand?"

"I most certainly do _not,_" Sebastian snarled, pulling his horse in front of hers and stopping them both. "My ability to protect you is already limited due to your continuous refusal to take the contract. Now you would jeopardize your safety even more when you have a pack of assassins out for your blood? What exactly are you trying to accomplish, other than your death?!"

"I am trying to accomplish my brother's chance for a future," Lydia replied stoically, maneuvering her horse around his. "This decision will not be changed, so any arguing you wish to do on the subject will be superfluous."

Rested though he may have been, Sebastian looked like he had half a mind to explode into a typhoon of demonic rage. Lydia continued riding down the road, pretending to be unconcerned, while he collected himself and caught up with her. "There is something you are not telling me, master."

"Is that so?" she murmured faintly, ducking her head as the wrought-iron fence around the college came into view.

Sebastian sighed heavily. "Well then, if I am to be forced to obey this order, I will simply have to make sure such a situation never occurs." He clenched his clawed hands and glanced back the way they had come. "I will not fail you again."

Lydia looked at him gently, the infallible butler whom she had thought of as perfect in her childhood, until that fateful day when she had seen him for what he was. "If you truly wish not to fail me, Sebastian…." She tapped her bandaged arm softly, "Then do right by me, even if it seems impossible for what you are. Even if you don't understand. Protect what I love."

/

After dinner, which she ate alone in the clock tower, Lydia lay in the middle of her bed, brooding. She knew she ought to start compiling the data she had collected in the forest, but she could not help being upset that she and Sebastian were once again on bad terms, even if it was mostly his fault and probably unavoidable. The demon had not spoken to her for the rest of the return trip to the clock tower, which had involved Lydia climbing into a small covered wagon and staying absolutely silent until Sebastian conveniently paused the cart beside the tower door and signaled her to jump out. She presumed he had taken the horses back to the stables, and she had not heard from him since. Lydia sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She knew that from his point of view, this was monstrously unfair- she was forcing him to compromise a precious resource, her light, which he needed to help him with his pain. Her death would mean his return to agony and emptiness. She also knew that her reasoning would never be enough to justify this risk- Sebastian had never known what it was like to have a brother, and to love that brother- or to love anyone, really. Even so, he would obey the order, and that was what mattered. Lydia figured it was probably a good thing she had not mentioned her reoccurring nightmare to him today. She was still not sure whether there was truly something happening inside this tower, or whether her nerves had simply hit a breaking point after the most recent attempt on her life. What she did know was that for the past few nights, the nightmare had come over her sleeping form like a fever. It was always the same- it started with the tapping, at which point her dream-self rose up, lit a lantern, and went into the stairwell to investigate. And _he_ was always there- the grisly figure of Derrick Arden, standing below and gazing up at her with unseeing eyes. Only one detail was different- each night, without fail, he appeared a little further up the stairs. It was this fact more than anything that frightened Lydia and compelled her to wake up, crying out in terror. Sometimes, upon first opening her eyes, she thought she saw a tall, pitch-black figure looming over by the clock face. Other times she merely sensed an overwhelming presence in the room with her, yet never found anything no matter how many lights she lit or corners she checked. She had tied a small bell to the inside door handle, although she honestly did not see how it would be possible for anyone to get inside with the chair braced under the handle. She could not imagine how she was going to manage to hide in this tower if this state of affairs continued. During the day it was a cozy, bright little room, but when darkness fell it became a den of nightmares.

At the moment, Lydia was wondering whether she ought to go to sleep. She was extremely tired from a day spent traipsing around the forest, but she did not want to risk falling back into the nightmare. She turned her head toward the darkening clock face and wondered if she was overreacting because she was not used to having nightmares. She had seen things in the dream that had frightened her, yes, but nothing worse than lack of sleep had actually happened to her. She wondered suddenly if Ciel had nightmares often, and if so, how he dealt with them. She wondered whether he would be offended if she asked him.

Lydia was roused from her musings by a sudden knocking on her door. That was probably him right now, she figured. They were due for a strategy meeting. Thumping down the stairs, she waited for him to declare himself. She frowned when he did not. Tentatively, she called out, "Ciel?"

No one answered. Another knock came, and her eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Edward? Sebastian?" No answer. Still another knock. "Sebastian, if that is you, I order you to show yourself this instant." She glanced around; neither hide nor hair of the demon appeared. "Blast it," she mumbled, bracing her right arm defensively in front of her. "Whoever is out there, I am not opening this door until you state your name and purpose. As a matter of fact, I am not opening this door at all. Go away!" Her eyes widened as the knocking continued. "Stop that!" she barked, her voice rising into a tiny squeak at the end.

An idea suddenly dawned on her. Backing up a few steps, Lydia drew back her arm and smacked herself in the face, hard. Blinking, she stared at the door, hissing as the relentless knocking continued. She was reasonably sure she was not dreaming. If she was, this was a different type of dream altogether. Her dream-self never hesitated to go out the door, and never felt fear before she saw Derrick Arden's face. A horrible thought suddenly fell like a tremor over her body. She swallowed, and called out, "Derrick Arden?"

The knocking became a heavy pounding, shaking the bell upon the door. Lydia gasped and scrambled backward up the stairs, taking a defensive position behind her bed. "Derrick Arden-! That had better not be you!" she half-screamed, attempting to sound braver than she really felt. "By god, I am not in a state of mind to be trifled with! If I see your face, I will punch it across this campus!"

The meaty pounding suddenly lapsed into the hair-raising scrape of fingernails upon the wooden door. Trembling like an autumn leaf, Lydia promptly decided she had had enough of this tower. She raced across the room, grabbing her emergency rucksack, a lantern, a jacket, and her shoes. Keeping her eye on the door lest it start to open, she dashed back over to her bed and reached for a pillow. Her eyes fell upon something lying in the middle of her bed, and she screamed again.

It was a piece of yellow parchment paper, folded neatly. It was crisp and unwrinkled, and Lydia was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had not been there only a moment ago. Beginning to hyperventilate, she turned her head frantically about the room, only to see, as usual- nothing. The pounding began again, causing the door to jump on its hinges. The chair slipped from under the handle and fell flat onto the floor.

Lydia was seized by a moment of heart-rending terror and indecision before she reached out, snatched the paper from the bed, and dug the quaking fingers of her left hand into her bandaged arm. In the moment she ripped the gauze away, she heard a roar of pain before she pushed off into the world of light. She cartwheeled through space and flipped across gentle lines, falling away from the terror and hurt, falling with only herself and the soul inside her.

She collided facedown with something fuzzy. It took her a moment to realize her face was pressing into grass. Rolling over with a gasp, Lydia clutched the uncovered space on her arm and quickly shifted the surrounding bandages over it. She seemed to be lying on the grounds below the tower. The things she had been carrying were scattered all around her. Lydia set to work gathering them up, her heart calmed enough to allow her to think clearly. She was out of the tower, but she was now in the open in a place she was not supposed to be. She had to find cover before she was found out. Snatching the piece of parchment, Lydia turned to stare up at the clock face and balked as she saw a black, featureless figure standing inside the glass, its head tilted downward. "Bloody hell," she breathed, then turned and ran for her life.

In one of the only fortunate occurrences to happen to her all day, Lydia seemed to have fallen out of the tower after Weston's nighttime curfew. The grounds were completely deserted as she barreled across the lawn, glancing obsessively behind her to make sure nothing was following her. She had no idea where to go, or when to stop. She finally reached a lily-white gazebo built beside an artificial river. Bolting up its steps, Lydia collapsed upon one of the settees located within, panting and trembling slightly. She fumbled with her lantern and lit the wick, casting it around to make sure the gazebo really was vacant. She was alone with the furniture.

Biting her lip, the young girl shook her head and tried to think of what to do. She could try to seek out Ciel or Edward, but Blue and Green House dormitories were massive buildings, and she had no illusions about her likelihood of slipping in undetected. She had no idea where the housemasters roomed, and she had no way to contact Sebastian. For the first time, Lydia found herself wishing she could call to him through the contract. But she could not, and so she had to handle this situation on her own, without exposing herself or her brother. Taking a deep breath, Lydia pulled on her jacket and shoes, then stared at the thick piece of parchment in her hand. Whatever the bloody hell was going on, it had something to do with _this._ Unfolding the paper, Lydia's eyes were met by seven lines of slanted cursive.

_My dauntless girl-_

_I'm sure you know it would be such a shame_

_for this lovely game to stall. _

_So do not hide, and don't slow down;_

_I will protect you in your demon's place_

_while you make your play._

_Don't stop or your world falls down. _

Lydia gaped at the message, a tsunami of alarm rushing through her mind. She read the words over and over, glancing back and forth in the falling darkness, expecting a pitch-black, faceless specter to appear before of her at any moment. The wind funneled through the gazebo's beams, causing her to shiver and rattling the paper in her hands. Completely baffled, Lydia folded her legs up to her chest and set the lantern in her lap, curling her body around the tiny flame. Exhaustion wracked her mind, but she could not sleep, and she stared and stared at the parchment as though she could make it say something comprehensible. She stared for hours, rocking back and forth to keep warm, feeling like a grain of sand upon a frozen shore, very small and utterly alone.


	31. Taking the Leap

**Man, you guys are quiet. Is that a bad thing? It's okay though, I'm pretty quiet myself when I'm not writing stories, so I won't hold it against you. You're like my little box of reader-mice. :)**

***gives new chapter***

The very first time she had ever used her gift to _leap,_ as Lydia called it, she had been fifteen years old. On that October evening, she had accompanied her father to a factory in conjunction with his position as a Scotland Yard inspector. It was only supposed to be an evidence-gathering mission. Aberlaine was charged with investigating accusations of corruption and money-hoarding on the part of the factory's owners. Upon arriving at the large building beside the Thames, they discovered that the owners appeared to have fled, deepening their suspicions. In accordance with the tip the Yard had received, they climbed up on the wooden scaffolding beside a half-finished wall and began searching the stones for hidden niches where ill-gotten money was stored. But the factory owners had devised a bold tactic for making sure no one found their loot. Lydia never knew which of the workers they had paid off to trip the wire that led to the explosives hidden underneath the scaffolding's supports. She heard a tremendous noise below them, and she and her father were suddenly rocked like an earthquake as the ground beams buckled. Aberlaine seized the top of the wall with one arm as the scaffolding fell away, his other hand straining to hold onto Lydia as she dangled forty feet above the crowded factory floor. Her father tried to heave her to the top of the wall, but she felt his grasp slipping on the bandages of her right arm. She was too terrified to even cry out; she could feel the gravity of the earth stretching their tenuous connection, indifferent to her fear, ripping her away from her father forever. She heard a tremendous tear, and then Lydia plummeted down the wall faster than she could have believed, her father's horrified face screaming her name from above, a wilted rag of white bandages clenched in his hand. She looked down and saw the ground rushing up to meet her. She had no time to prepare to die. Lydia closed her eyes and thought powerfully of her home on Camden Street, her room, the safety of her bed…. She felt no pain of impact. The world before her disappeared into a flush of golden light. She beheld many, many stars, and heard the far-off singing of someone's heart. She thought she was dead, and her fear left her. She felt that she was moving, a kind of rushing flight.

Then she fell again, this time only for a split second before colliding face-first with something soft. Her awareness of her physical body returned, and she moved each limb tentatively, wondering why she did not feel broken. When she lifted her head, she was alone in her little bedroom, inside her own home, listening to the familiar bustle of the world outside.

Lydia had never felt more inclined to become hysterical. She managed to keep enough presence of mind to tie a sheet around her bandaged arm and stagger across her lawn to the Weatherstaff home. After demanding of a very confused Thoms whether he could see her and feel her solid hands, she implored him to drive her immediately back to the factory. To his credit, Thoms hitched up his horse at once and rode them both across London to the building on the Thames. Lydia raced inside to find her father, also nearly hysterical, searching desperately through the rubble with half a dozen Scotland Yard associates. She had only seen him cry once before, on the day her mother died.

The first place they went to was the Church. Rector O'Malley was an Irishman by birth, and an intrepid traveler who had lived long, journeyed longer, and seen a great many things. He did not have to be convinced of the supernatural. They had consulted with him before about Lydia's arm and the phenomenal strength it held; now, he observed with great interest as they experimented with the effects of removing her bandages, secreted away from the world in the rear Churchyard. They discovered several things. First, while she existed in the world of light, she could 'leap' anywhere by merely focusing on it. Second, not even a moment of time passed between her disappearance and reappearance, no matter how great the distance. There were limitations to this power, however. She could only take others with her if she was touching them when the bandages came off. To those merely watching her, they saw a faint, narrow pulse of light and then she was vanished. It was much more difficult for her to 'leap' to someplace she had never seen, and if she was not concentrating properly, she usually ended up reappearing sideways or upside down somewhere in the general vicinity of her disappearance. It was crucial that she cover up her arm immediately after reappearing, or she would flicker in and out of the world until she managed to get ahold of herself.

Lydia, however, was greatly concerned with understanding _why_ she had this power. To this end, Rector O'Malley tried to reassure her in her faith. "To be sure, lass, the good book does say, 'The meek shall inherit the earth,'" he relayed good-naturedly to her on the first day of November of that year, sitting in the Church's courtyard in his sacred vestments. "And I'm sure you've taken note of many verses to do with strength, power, and light, all gifts of those belonging to the Lord. And if you want to take a scientific perspective, well, they say light _is_ the fastest thing on earth. I think there's even a part of Acts that says, now let me see…." He rifled through the Bible which he kept perpetually at his side. "_Then both Philip and the eunuch went down to the water and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the spirit of the Lord suddenly took Philip away, and the eunuch did not see him again, but went on his way rejoicing. Philip, however, appeared at Azotus and travelled about…._" Rector O'Malley nodded and closed the book in his weathered hands. "However, if you want to know what I think, the reason you have these gifts probably has less to do with what these folks did with them, and more to do with what _you're_ going to do with them. That's something you don't know about yet, but the Lord Almighty, He surely does. He's made you this arm to replace the one you gave up, and He did it for a reason. He won't give you more than you can handle." The old priest smiled down at her, and in his eyes Lydia saw the mysterious soul of a man who had lost his health to smallpox while serving the poor in India, seen his parish burned to the ground seven years ago, and contended for decades with worshippers who questioned his dislike of gold and lavish trimmings in the Church, and who still found the heart to come to God every day, without hesitation. "Trust Him."

After a terrifying night of huddling in the freezing darkness, jumping at every noise and feeling her eyes burn from lack of sleep, Lydia was trying to find the strength to do just that. She knew she could not stay in this gazebo much longer. The face of the giant clock, looming over the campus roofs, told her it was 5:45 in the morning. She knew from Edward that morning turn-out was scheduled at 6:30 for regular students, which meant that housemasters and prefects were awake even earlier. She could not risk someone coming outside and seeing the glow of her lantern in the gazebo. It would be past noon before Edward, Ciel, Sebastian, or possibly all three had time to approach the tower to visit her. She needed to intercept them at the bottom of the staircase. However, until then, she needed to find somewhere to go for the next six hours. Somewhere she would not be found….

Hands shaking in the cold, Lydia held up the piece of parchment left upon her bed and read it again. She had been puzzling over it all night. She was sure she had never seen the handwriting before. Moreover, the circumstances under which it had been delivered were most disturbing. She moved her lips silently as she read;

_My dauntless girl-_

_I'm sure you know it would be such a shame_

_for this lovely game to stall. _

_So do not hide, and don't slow down;_

_I will protect you in your demon's place_

_while you make your play._

_Don't stop or your world falls down._

There were so many things that bothered her about this missive, she scarcely knew what to worry about first. She had nearly fainted upon reading the words '_your demon_.' Absolutely no one outside of the Phantomhive family and Tanaka was supposed to know about Sebastian's true nature. Moreover, the more she thought about it, the more she began to suspect the letter-writer was not a normal person at all. There had been no one in the room with her last night during that entire ordeal. There had certainly been someone on the opposite side of the door, but they could not have placed the parchment on her bed. If they could turn invisible or pass through walls, they would not have needed to attempt to break down her door. Did that mean the pitch-black silhouette and the presence outside her door were different beings? And perhaps the silhouette was actually….a ghost? Lydia shivered, huddling closer around her lantern. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. Edward _had_ said that the reason no one came to the tower was that it was supposed to be haunted. However, he seemed to have spent years in the little room without incident. Perhaps the ghost did not appreciate a new person moving in? All the same, what kind of ghost could manipulate paper and pen?

Lydia shook her head and gazed down at the letter again. _I'm sure you know it would be such a shame/ for this lovely game to stall./ So do not hide, and don't slow down;/ I will protect you in your demon's place/ while you make your play._ She frowned fiercely. The writer, however dead or alive they might be, communicated like an immature child who wanted to make sure their amusement would continue, no matter what the cost. Moreover, they called her _dauntless_; fearless, courageous. She did not feel particularly fearless or courageous after the events of last night. And what was this nonsense about 'protecting' her? Nothing that had happened in the tower thus far had made her feel the least bit protected.

However, the thing that worried Lydia most about this message was the very last line. _Don't stop or your world falls down. _Whichever way she looked at it, it sounded like a threat. Was the letter-writer trying to imply they would do something against 'her world' if 'this lovely game' was 'stalled'? Or were they trying to warn her of impending danger and advise her to continue her pursuit of the truth before the truth caught up to her life? Lydia closed her eyes, listening to the calming drum of her heart. What _was_ her world? She thought of Ciel, Aberlaine, Madame Red. She thought of Sebastian and Tanaka and Thoms and Camden Street and Hampstead Heath. She thought of her mother's grave, and laid a frozen hand over her heart. Blast it all, she was going to have to move forward and continue her search for answers, danger or no danger. Sebastian would be furious, but he needed to stay with Ciel. Who knew what on earth was going on at this school? Reaching into her emergency rucksack, Lydia pulled out the folders she had been given the other day, rifling through the pages until she found what she was looking for. Taking a deep breath, she stood and cast her eyes toward the tower where the middle hand was inching its way toward the bottom of the clock. She had stayed too long already. Gripping her lantern, she blew out the flame and slung her rucksack over her back. She stepped out of the gazebo, turning her eyes up to the cloud-covered sky. "It's you I need to protect me," she whispered lowly, reaching across her body to her covered arm. "Agnus Dei." Then the bandages split under her fingers and she vanished in a flicker of light, leaving the pristine white gazebo empty behind her.

/

Having just finished 9:00 breakfast, Ciel was currently ensconced in a small private study room in the corner of the library, waiting for Sebastian to appear and report on the results of his secret foray into the student archives the night before. The young heir rubbed his uncovered eye wearily; it was taking some time to get used to sleeping in the unfamiliar space of his new dorm room. He especially did not enjoy sleeping in a room with other people. Some boys snored, some tossed and turned, and some got up too often or whispered to each other after lights out. It was driving him a bit mad. However, as a regular first-form student, he would not be entitled to a room of his own for quite a while. He had heard that only housemasters, prefects, prefects' fags, and other seniors of especial privilege were given private dorm rooms. He could not help but envy Lydia in her room all to herself, high above the world. He knew he would not be at this school long enough to earn such a thing.

Ciel sighed and tapped his foot impatiently. If the case Her Majesty had given him continued to progress at this interminably slow pace, however, he very well might be. He had been at Weston College for a week, and he had hardly managed to glean any information about Derrick Arden and his four Red House fellows. The only information he had found was courtesy of McMillan, a red-haired, freckled, Irish-looking boy who had insisted on befriending him. According to the bespectacled first-former, Derrick Arden and several other boys had been transferred some time ago from Red House to Purple House due to a special order from the headmaster. Apparently it was rare for transfers to occur, but anyone he had asked had simply told him that it was the decision of the headmaster, and the headmaster's decisions were never wrong. Ciel rolled his eyes, snorting slightly. The headmaster seemed to be the absolute ruler of this school, an impressive feat considering very few students had ever seen him. Only the prefects and the vice-headmaster were allowed access to him. Therefore, Ciel had taken it upon himself to curry favor with the 'P4,' as they were called, through catering to the fag of Blue House's prefect, Lawrence Bluewer. His fag was a strict young man named Clayton, and Ciel was bound and determined to become Clayton's fag, irritating as it was to have to serve someone else. Ciel lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Well, it wasn't as though he was the one doing the work, after all….

The door turned open and Sebastian stepped inside, closing it perfunctorily behind him. The young heir folded his arms and looked up at the demon expectantly. "Well? Did you get the files?"

Sebastian removed his teaching spectacles and eyed Ciel warily. "Forgive me, young master, but I was not able to recover the files of the five students. They were not present within the archives."

"Not present-?" Ciel resisted the urge to slap his palm against his forehead. "Why ever not? Were you sure to check the archives of all four houses, especially Red House and Purple House?"

"Yes, sir." Sebastian nodded. "The student roll I was given shows Derrick Arden and the others assigned to Purple House. However, I checked the archives of all four houses and did not come across their names. There were not even any files to hold their paperwork. I looked through the files of other current students as well as the collection of past student records, just in case theirs had been misplaced. There was no information to be found."

Ciel sighed, leaning tiredly against the far wall. "_Bother._ That's one plan knotted. But, on the other hand, the fact that their files are missing _is_ a very important clue. It tells us someone is trying to conceal something." He tapped his foot again. "But who? Could it be the students themselves? Have they done something untoward, and are now trying to cover their tracks? That still doesn't explain the transfer…."

"There is something else, young master." Sebastian paused as a pair of lively footsteps bustled by their door. "In my duties as housemaster, I am responsible for teaching several higher-level courses, one of which has Derrick Arden and another of the students in question enrolled. However, it has been a week, and they have yet to show up or hand in any assignments."

The young heir bit his lip fiercely. "Stranger and stranger," he muttered. "Just _what_ are they doing holed up in Purple House? And how can we reach them to find out? I've already tried to enter their dormitory during the day, and was rebuffed in a very hostile manner. Sneaking out at night is a substantial risk for both of us. There are too many people around who might notice our absence. We were lucky no one came knocking on your door last night while you were in the archives. We may not be so lucky again."

"Quite, sir," Sebastian nodded, frowning as the sound of bells pervaded the library, signaling a resumption of class time. "I fear we must now return to our façade as teacher and student."

"I suppose," Ciel grumbled, straightening his uniform jacket. "Well then, I'll just have to work harder to gain favor with Clayton and move closer to the P4. They may be my only hope of obtaining answers. To that end, Sebastian, I want you to organize Clayton's bookshelf and make treacle tart for his afternoon snack. Actually, make treacle tart for both of us. Then meet with me in the rear hallway at noon so we can slip out to the clock tower and speak with Lydia. As a matter of fact, I believe she likes treacle tart as well. Make some for all three of us."

Sebastian bowed in acquiesce, and Ciel moved toward the door. "A moment, young master," the demon's voice stopped him as he reached into his robes. "I may not have been able to obtain the files of the students we are investigating, but I did find this."

Ciel took the folder and felt his heart skip like a stone as he read his father's name upon the cover. He resisted the urge to search through it immediately, forcing himself to slide it into his bag for later. "Very good, Sebastian. At least we've got something. However, I would prefer that we refrain from mentioning Vincent to Lydia unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We do not want her to be hurt." He glanced up at Sebastian, and was surprised to find the demon staring down at him with a most troubled expression upon his pale features. "Why on earth are you looking at me like that?"

Sebastian cleared his face immediately. "Pardon me, sir. I was merely thinking." He replaced the spectacles over his eyes and held the door open for Ciel. The young heir had half a mind to inquire what exactly his butler had been thinking about, but he bit his tongue and strode briskly out the door. It was beneath him to concern himself with the thoughts of a servant, and besides, talking with Sebastian about anything other than business had always made him highly uncomfortable. He held his back straight and pretended he could not feel the demon's eyes upon it as he walked away.

/

_Tom, he was a piper's son,_

_He learnt to play when he was young,_

_And all the tune that he could play_

_Was "Over the hills and far away…." _

Lydia smiled tiredly at the pair of singing children as they skipped past the cart she was currently sitting in, her weary feet dangling off the back. She was lucky that this older gentleman had come upon her as she was trudging down the road and offered her a ride in his open-topped cart, full of clean, sweet-smelling hay. At this point she was near to falling flat on her face with exhaustion, having spent the previous day trekking miles around Hampstead Heath, only to be chased out of her bedroom that night by some bloody apparition the moment she tried to get some rest. It would have been much easier if she could have simply 'leapt' to her destination directly. However, Lydia had never been there before, and she did not want to risk all the chaos that could happen if she were to arrive in someplace she had not meant to go, especially if a citizen managed to spot her appearing out of thin air. Being found out by the general public for her powers was one of Lydia's most pressing fears- or at least it _had_ been, until violent strangers had begun to try to kill her again. Lydia had decided to take the less risky path and start out from a certain intersection of Coventry Road, the route which her destination was supposedly located on. She had been at the intersection before with her father, and she had felt fairly certain she could manage to leap there without ending up somewhere completely unexpected. After successfully making the leap, she had walked for two hours through the countryside before being picked up by the merciful farmer with the hay cart. He had told her he knew of the hill she was trying to reach.

_Over the hills and a great way off,_

_The wind shall blow my top-knot off._

"Here we are, missie," the hay farmer called deeply, hauling his reins back and bringing the cart to a standstill. "There's the path up the hill, see? Renbourn Workhouse oughta be jus' o'er the top."

"Thank you most kindly, sir," she replied, hopping down from the cart and feeling the rushing wind push some energy back into her body. "You've saved me from a great trouble."

"T'wasn't nothin', nothin' at all," the scraggly man protested, smiling with his eyes, which were almost as blue as her own. "I hope ye find wot 'tis ye came for."

"You are good to hope it." Lydia waved as he urged his cart-horse forward and rolled off down the packed dirt lane. She turned toward the lonely path up the bare hill and squared her shoulders, beginning to stride upward at a determined pace. She could not help but notice that, like Weston College, patches of grass grew here and there in the roadway, apparently untrammeled by wheels or feet. Of course, she knew that Renbourn Workhouse no longer looked to the man called Baron Kelvin for patronage. If Sebastian's file was to be believed, he had ceased his charitable contributions and appearances in society years ago, which meant the workhouse probably had a new aristocratic patron. However, it was entirely possible that their administration had retained some paperwork, records, or pictures relating to the workhouse's founder. Perhaps someone working there knew where he had gone. If she played her cards right, Lydia was hopeful of discovering this information.

The wind rolled over the hill again like a flood, nearly pushing her back down the road. The brunette braced her arms in front of her face and forded upward, taking a careful look behind her as she continued to climb. Paranoia never led to anything good, but she could not help being on her guard. She still had no idea how the red-haired man had found her before in London, and it was possible, although improbable, that he would find her out here as well. If that happened, Lydia planned to leap back to the (relative) safety of Weston College, although the fact remained that there was also something there which seemed to want to get her. She shivered and shook her head, trying to force the fearsome details of last night out of her mind. Right now she needed to focus on presenting herself as calm, collected, and trustworthy, not an easy feat when she was technically wearing a nightgown. However, it was from the Phantomhive estate, and so finely made that she had thus far been able to pass it off as a dress. She assumed the people at the workhouse would not look at it too closely. She would distract them with her words. If she asked the right questions and dropped the right names, she should be able to gain access to their archives….

Lydia's foot caught on a rock as she reached the top of the hill and stumbled, staring baldly ahead in shock. The place she had come to was not a building, but a crumbling mass of stone. Ceilings were caved in, glass windows were shattered, and weeds and ivy grew over everything like fingers from the earth.

Her first inclination was to suppose she had not come to the right place, after all. However, a rusting metal sign overarching the dilapidated entrance held just enough letters to tell her it had once read, 'Renbourn Workhouse.' Frowning in disappointment, Lydia wandered through the abandoned ruins, skirting around glass shards as she approached the building. It was clear that no one had lived here for quite a while. Standing on tiptoe, Lydia peered through shattered windows of various rooms as she went along. The building had long since been stripped of its furniture; not even a single picture was left upon the walls. It looked like there had once been a second floor, but its base had given out, leaving towering walls slowly eroding under wind and rain.

Lydia finished circling the building, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It seemed she had come all this way for nothing. Now she would have to go back to Weston empty-handed and no further along in her search for answers. Kicking a small rock moodily, the brunette followed it into a grassy field just east of the former workhouse. A rotted bench sat in front of the overgrown clearing. Lydia stared at the grounds where no doubt children had once played and run about, merrily, merrily…. She wondered what had become of them after the workhouse had closed. Had they been moved to another charitable institution? She greatly hoped someone had taken them in. It was not their fault that Baron Kelvin, for whatever reason, had stopped funding them….

Lydia's eyes caught upon an unnatural shape lying in the grass. Stooping to pick it up, she brushed the dirt off and realized it was a wooden heart, carved by a short, swift knife. There seemed to be some etchings on both sides of the heart, which moss had grown over. Since she had nothing better to do, Lydia sat down in the tall grass and scraped the moss away with her fingernail. After a few minutes, a pair of names were revealed upon one side. _Josiah_ and _Charlotte_. The two names were joined together by a double-tipped arrow. The formation of the letters was very well-cut. Lydia flipped the heart over and worked away the moss on the other side, until it was revealed to say _Made by Laura_. A little daisy-flower was carved above the name. She smiled and laughed softly, tucking the discarded heart away into her rucksack. It was obviously a childhood charm meant to bring two names together in hopes that their bearers would fall in love. She had taken part in such whimsical nonsense herself when she was not so much younger than Ciel was now.

Deciding there was nothing more for her to stare at, Lydia stood up and meandered toward the entrance, casting her eyes ruefully upon the crumbled stone around her. "I suppose they couldn't find another patron, after all," she mumbled to herself. The wind pressed upon her back as she threaded her fingers softly through the bandaged coating of her arm.

"How sad."


	32. Violet Wolf House

"Master, _please_ allow me to go with you."

Lydia shook her head and winced softly at the spreading ache in her left shoulder. "No, Sebastian. You've had students coming to your room all night seeking help with their studies. If you were to be found absent for no discernible reason, people would begin to wonder. And Ciel has to be in his dorm room for lights out in less than fifteen minutes. If he isn't there, the dorm head will begin searching. I am not _supposed_ to be anywhere in this school; therefore, no one will find it suspicious if I am not present."

Sebastian growled and reached behind him toward the medical box. Sitting on a chair beside it, Ciel handed him another strip of gauze and the demon laid it carefully over the still-scabbing wound she had received in the manor attack. "But master, you do not know your way around that place at all. If you are caught…."

"What other choice do we have but to take the risk?" Lydia asked, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "We have to do _something _to move this case forward." She meant it, too. It had been four days since she had returned to Weston after her unsuccessful excursion to Renbourn Workhouse. She had hidden in the bushes at the base of the clock tower and waited for Ciel and Sebastian to come along. Once she had made contact with them and explained the occurrences of the night before, the three of them had decided to (very carefully) venture up the stairs to the room at the top of the tower. They did not find Derrick Arden, or anyone else, for that matter. The room itself was the same as it had always been; her trunk looked to be untouched. However, just as Lydia was beginning to question her sanity, Sebastian discovered deep, vicious fingernail gouges upon the outside of the wooden door. The chair she had been using to prop the door closed was smashed to pieces in the stairwell.

That was the end of Lydia's short-lived stay in the tower. Sebastian moved her possessions into the closet of his private room in Blue House dormitory, and Lydia began to quietly reside with the demon. She could not stay there all the time, however; only at night. In truth, although Sebastian had a "private" room, the domain of a housemaster was only considered truly private territory after lights out. During the day the maids came in to clean, fellow teachers came to leave papers on his desk, and students came to seek tutoring or advice. Housemasters were required to devote the better part of their days to their charges and colleagues, therefore Sebastian could not lock his door against them. From the hours of turn-out in the morning until lights out at night, Lydia was veritably on her own. Fortunately, having been raised by an inspector, she had some idea of how to keep herself from being discovered. Her father had taught her that it was generally easier to hide in plain sight than to hide outright, as nothing drew people's attention faster than something which looked as though it did not belong. To that end, Sebastian had procured her a standard uniform and loosened it around the chest area so it would not accentuate her breasts. Lydia had removed the piercings from her ears and taken to wearing her hair coiled in a low bun and tucked under the back of her uniform jacket. There had been some debate about which house to "place" her in; finally, Sebastian had settled it by returning with a full set of different-colored ties and all four house crests. The school crests were supposed to be embroidered into the uniforms, but Sebastian had come up with a system of hitches which allowed her to quickly remove one crest's "patch" and affix another to her uniform while making it look like it was sewed on. She had barely even had time to learn how to knot a tie before she was obliged to leave the safety of Sebastian's room and brave the terror of the school hallways.

The first day, Lydia had wandered around shell-shocked, expecting the end of the world at any moment. All of the masculine clothing in the world could not make up for the fact that she simply did not have masculine features. She was a woman, and she looked like it. She kept waiting for someone to comment, grab her shoulder, peer into her face, and ask her _what exactly she thought she was doing,_ to which she had no reply. She waited and waited like a condemned man waiting for the noose….and it did not happen. Gradually, over the next few days, Lydia began to understand why. It was the most unusual thing she had ever seen, but there were actually boys at this school with features far more womanly than her own. At least, she assumed they were boys- unless this school was a popular destination for females wanting to cross-dress as high-class males. She had never thought she would meet a boy prettier than herself, but the first time she saw Edgar Redmond and his fag, Maurice Cole, she could not deny that she did not even come close to them in terms of beauty. It was a most bizarre situation, but it was to her advantage. Not a single person had yet questioned her womanly looks.

Of course, Lydia did not go to classes or attend clubs or do anything which might cause her to begin to develop a solid presence at this school. She wanted people to see her and assume she belonged without arousing their interest in her as a "student." She walked through the halls, wandered across the gardens, and occasionally worked up the courage to request a snack from the kitchens. During the times when she ought to have been in class, she usually hid between the bookshelves in the library. Sometimes she absconded with the books and hid on the rooftops of various buildings, watching the world pass by below. Lydia wore grey men's gloves to cover up her bandaged limb, and she was trying very hard to avoid getting into situations which required her to use her powers to leap away. She had twice been caught in a mandatory line-up of a particular house's members while wearing their house crest, and had twice managed to edge to the very end of the line, hunch over, and vanish while everyone else looked toward the prefect. On another occasion, she had been wrangled into attending a class by a teacher who apparently mistook her for another student and decided she belonged there. She had spent an hour surrounded by unfamiliar boys, terrified that one of them would ask why they had never seen her in class before. As soon as the instructor gave the class a break, she hurried to the vacant cloakroom and reappeared on a nearby roof, where she spent the next hour lying flat on her back, wondering what in the world she was doing.

Of course, Ciel and Edward provided some help in her floundering attempts to navigate the school unnoticed. However, she could not rely on them to get her through the days. Edward had his own worries and duties as the fag of Green House's prefect, and Ciel had recently encountered some adversity in his quest to enter the inner circle of the P4. Apparently Maurice Cole, the pretty fag of Red Fox's prefect, had come to feel threatened by her brother's "competence" in attending to his seniors, and was attempting to discredit him and ruin his reputation. This did not particularly worry Lydia. While she had no illusions about who was _really_ doing the work that had caught the P4's attention, she knew that Ciel was shrewd and diligent. He did not need much help to foil a petty schoolboy's machinations, although he had asked her to stake out Red House's rooftop for several afternoons and report on the exact times of Maurice Cole's comings and goings. While Ciel worked on repairing his reputation and Lydia worked on what she hoped was acceptably masculine behavior, the case had languished. They were getting nowhere at this rate, and Lydia had finally decided she would have to force some results by going directly to the source of the mystery.

"I will be one hour," Lydia declared, returning to the present as Sebastian moved to make another protest. "If I have not returned by that point, you may leave your room to find me. However, I will most definitely do my best to make it back under that time limit, whether I find Purple House's roster or not. If I can manage to make off with it, then we can find out which rooms Derrick Arden and the others are in, and perhaps we could sneak in during the day and meet with them. It's all part of the process."

"And what if whatever it was that attempted to get through your door in the tower finds _you?_" the demon demanded, his red eyes flaring. "This would be so much safer if you let me go with you, master."

Lydia bit her lip and folded her hands as he finished re-dressing her wound. To tell the truth, the more she looked out the window into the inky black night, the more his insistence seemed to make sense. He had been like this ever since she had returned from the workhouse and revealed the note. Since then, Ciel and Sebastian had been incessantly theorizing about who could have written it and why. Sebastian had become ten times more possessive toward her over the past few days, and she knew what was eating at him. While the thing that troubled her most about the note was the last line, _Don't stop or your_ _world falls down,_ Sebastian had been particularly bothered by the fifth line: _I will protect you in your_ _demon's place._ He did not seem to care too much about the fact that someone apparently knew his secret identity, but the presumption that anyone or anything could protect his master in _his_ place had made him furious.

Just as Lydia was about to give in, there was a knock upon the door. Both siblings jumped and stared toward it in alarm. An authoritative male voice called, "Mr. Michaelis, may I come in? I would like to discuss house preparations for the fourth of June."

"Bloody hell!" Ciel hissed, bolting to his feet. "It's Bluewer!"

Lydia immediately lunged for her school robe and scrambled off the bed. Of all the people in this school she was trying to avoid, the prefects were at the top of her list. No doubt they would know the names and faces of everyone in their houses, and immediately be able to pick out someone who didn't belong. She raced on tiptoe toward Sebastian's closet, the demon trailing just behind her. "Master, please," he whispered, blocking the door with his hand as she tried to swing it closed. "Do not go alone. Let me send him away. He may think of it whatever he wishes."

Lydia grimaced and gently pried his hand off the door. "Sorry, Sebastian," she murmured, pulling it shut upon herself. "Keep him occupied so he doesn't become suspicious. One hour."

The last thing she heard as her fingers broke the gauze was the demon's muffled, furious snarl before she catapulted through the light and found herself landed upon the west lawn, facing the imposing dark exterior of Violet Wolf House.

The shock of the wind caused her skin to erupt in gooseflesh. Lydia shivered and hurriedly donned her school robe, reaching into the pockets of her uniform and thumbing through the different colored ties and crests within. She pulled Blue Owl's tie and crest off her body and replaced them with those of Violet Wolf, thinking that her actions would probably seem almost sacrilegious to an outside observer. She had taken note of the intense competition that existed between the houses and prevented students of one house from freely fraternizing with those from others. Switching houses in this way was tantamount to treason at Weston College, which only made it all the stranger that five boys from Red Fox had all been transferred by special order to Violet Wolf, directly contradicting the school's culture and oh-so-precious tradition.

Lydia shivered again and peered up at the darkened windows of Violet Wolf House as she waited for the mysterious bell to toll for lights out. She was not sneaking in tonight to try to find Derrick Arden or the others; to do that, she would have to enter dorm rooms full of students, which would guarantee her apprehension. However, Ciel had informed her that each of the prefects possessed a master list of all of their students, students' rooms, and other biographical information about them. Likewise, Sebastian had said that Derrick and his fellows had not attended classes for even one day so far, which meant they must be sequestering themselves in their dormitory. If Lydia could locate the master list for Purple House and find out which rooms Derrick and the others were in, it would be much easier for her to sneak herself and Ciel in during the day when all of the other Purple House students were in class. Then they could find out for themselves why the boys were refusing to come home or contact their families, and take care of any exigencies that appeared. And then they could finally leave this disturbing academy behind, and Lydia would have nothing more to worry about aside from the mysterious strangers who kept trying to kill her. That was the plan, anyway.

Somewhere across the shadowed campus, Lydia heard the bell. She waited several minutes to give any stragglers time to get into their rooms. Then she paced quietly up to the gigantic double doors that guarded the entrance to the dormitory. They looked very heavy, as though they would make a great sound if they were opened. Lydia took a deep breath and reached for the part of her bandaged arm over which she had tied a temporary cover to make it easier to remove. She pressed her forehead against the thick wood and focused intensely on the (presumably empty) space on the other side of the door. The next moment she had pulled herself through the light into it. Her feet materialized unevenly upon a staircase, and she wobbled for a moment and almost fell over. Catching her balance, the young girl quickly re-covered her arm and gazed around in awe.

Everything about the interior of Purple House was strange and beautiful. It looked as though the artists who boarded within had contributed significantly to its design and decoration. The banisters were carved into intricate spiral designs. Wondrous and complicated paintings hung on the walls, and sculptures made in every medium topped the display shelves of hallway alcoves. The walls were not covered in paper, but paint- they were gigantic murals. Even through the dim light, Lydia could see that serious thought had been put into harmonizing the color tones with the surrounding carpet and décor. She felt as though she were standing in the middle of a curious sort of museum. Lydia could not resist spending several minutes wandering about in the quiet gloom, admiring everything she came upon. Eventually, she had to forcibly remind herself that she had not come here to sightsee- she had a mission to attend to, and less than an hour to accomplish it. She had to find the private room of Violet Wolf House's prefect.

Setting her sights upon the deserted grand staircase, Lydia began to creep up its steps, keeping her left hand close to the bandages of her right arm in case she suddenly had to leap away from her current location. Reaching the top, she glanced around the darkness before taking the hallway to her right. Sporadic lamps lit the path, and she was tempted to take one with her, but she worried that the moving light would attract the attention of anyone on patrol. Even with her black school robe wrapped around her body and the hood tucked about her face, she felt cold. She tried to keep her fear in the back of her mind while little shivers ran up and down her spine. Most of all, she tried not to think about what Sebastian had said. _What if whatever it was that attempted to get through your door in the tower finds_ _you?_ Bother Sebastian. Why did he have to say that, the unhelpful demon? She reminded herself that she had not come here tonight to look for Derrick Arden- she was only out to get his room assignment. But suppose- just suppose- she did meet up with him in these strange, shadowed hallways? Which Derrick Arden would he be? The handsome, smiling boy from the file photograph, or the uncanny, fearsome ghoul from the dream she had thus far managed to avoid since leaving the tower? And what on earth would she do if he was the latter?

To the relief of her battered heart, Lydia met no one as she wandered about the hallways in search of her destination. The students of Weston had many different abilities, but the one thing they all seemed to be good at was following the rules. As expected of a group of wealthy, high-class young elites. Even so, it was a shame that she had to spend so much of her time hiding from them, Lydia thought as she ghosted through hallways of inspired artwork. Some of them seemed like truly interesting individuals. She could detect several paintings and murals which looked like they had come from the hand of the boy whose room she was searching for.

She knew right away when she had found it. Not only was it larger and made of different wood than the other doors, it had the house crest stenciled onto it in dexterous, intricate patterning. Lydia backed down the hallway, digging her hand into the pocket of her robes. Ducking into an alcove, she peered out at the silhouette of the purple wolf. From underneath the crack in the door, she could see flickering candlelight. He was in there, and he was still awake. Now she just needed to get him to come out.

From deep within her pocket, Lydia pulled out two large cricket balls which she had nicked from the practice fields near Green House. Leaning warily past the alcove's corner, she gripped one of them in her bandaged fingers, aimed for the corner of the doorway, and let it fly. She had never lobbed a cricket ball before, but her aim was true and the sound it made was heavy enough to rouse him even if he had been sleeping. Lydia ducked back behind the alcove, watching with the narrowest slit of her eye as the door peeled open and a tousled head poked out. The hooded prefect spotted the ball lying at his feet and bent to pick it up. "What in the world….?"

Lydia turned her gaze toward the other end of the hallway, hefted the second ball, and tossed it into the furthest wall. It cracked against the wood and rattled the paintings. She heard the prefect exclaim in surprise as he began to stride down the hallway, closing his door behind him. "Who is out there? Come out so I can see you. Playing games at night is _not _acceptable."

Lydia reached for the bandages on her arm and quieted her mind, focusing solely on the empty space beyond his door. A second later, she was there. She blinked her eyes, then did a double take as she found herself within the most disordered room she had ever seen. Easels and canvasses and paint supplies were everywhere. Stacks of books lay here and there among scattered teacups and flowers and and dark clothes and strange cosmetics. The windowsills were lined with painted glass bottles, and the walls were full of color. It was dark, like a cave, with only a single lamp to illuminate the shadows. Dismayed, Lydia lifted the lamp and began to search, although she had serious doubts about her likelihood of finding anything in this creatively melded disaster. Where on earth would such a strange boy keep a house roster within this jumble of oddities? Somewhere accessible, perhaps, atop his dresser….? Rifling quickly through piles of sketches and notebooks, Lydia desperately searched for anything resembling a list. She kept her ear tuned to the outside, knowing she only had a little time before the prefect, unable to find the cricket-playing miscreants, would come back here. She raced through the dresser, a bookshelf, several piles of papers on his chair, and a half-finished filing drawer, all without finding the list. Raking her fingers through her hair in frustration, Lydia arched her neck back and momentarily forgot about her quest. The space above her head was full of stars. Heaven knew how he had gotten up there, but he had painted a vision of the cosmos over the mundane plaster, as though the ceiling had never existed at all. The sight of the stars stirred a begrudging appreciation for his genius, and Lydia turned all about, admiring the horizon from every angle. Then she lowered her head and found herself inches away from the smiling face of Derrick Arden.

She had no ability to stifle the shriek that flew from her parted lips. Lydia threw out her arms and scrambled desperately backward. Her legs collided with the bed and she fell head over heels onto the mattress. Tangled in her robe, she swam terrified through the black fabric until she clawed her way to the surface and gasped in disbelief as she saw it again. He was there-! A moment later, the trembling girl noticed the colored border around the lifelike image of the boy, and she gaped in shock. It was a painting. Good God, it was only a painting. The figure of Derrick Arden stood before her, made of powdered color and tightened canvas. His smile was like that of his photograph in the file, blithe and proper. Painted around him was a regular outdoor scene; he seemed to be standing beside the swan gazebo. However, there was something odd upon the ground at his feet. The shadow he cast was not a natural shadow. It was thick and pitch black; it showed nothing within it, but consumed the land upon which it fell. Beside this canvas was another, its paint gleaming as though it was freshly applied. There were no discernible shapes or figures within this painting, and there was only one color. Red. For some reason, the entire painting was a consuming mass of deep, dark red.

Lydia had no time to ponder what on earth this might mean. She heard hurried footsteps returning from down the hall, and realized she was out of time. Gasping, she vaulted off the bed and hunched down, reaching for the bandages on her arm and casting her eyes about in desperation, a last-ditch effort to seize anything that looked like a list. She heard the knob rattle and a body shove its shoulder into the door. "Who's in there?!" the prefect called in a sudden, panicked voice. "What are you doing in my room? Don't you dare look through my things! Open this door!"

Lydia's lips thinned in surprise as she stood up on shaky legs. What did he mean, open the door? She had not barred the door with anything, nor had she locked it, so why-

The light of her lamp touched the far wall, and in that moment Lydia's heart dropped through her body and plunged through the floor below. Standing against the inside of the door was the same pitch black, featureless, towering specter she had last seen staring at her from the height of the clock tower. Now it was here, only feet away from her, and Lydia could _feel_ it in a way she could not explain. It made the room cold. It did not breathe, but still there was a panting sensation about it, a hunger. Her knees gave out and Lydia buckled to the floor, knocking the two easels down with her, staring up at the menacing figure in heartless terror. A word came, unasked for and unbidden into her mind. _Sebastian…._

The specter moved and Lydia watched, too frightened to scream. It did not fly at her as she had imagined it would do. Instead, it shifted the side of its form and slowly, slowly, lifted an arm-like appendage. A pale, pristine hand materialized at the end of the arm, and from that, a protruding finger. The specter pointed.

For several minutes, Lydia was far too terrified to even think about what it might be pointing at. The figure pointed, she stared, and the pounding on the other side of the door continued as the prefect desperately tried to get inside. If he knew what dark thing was waiting on the other side of the door, Lydia mused detachedly, he might not be so eager. Finally, gasping little sips of air, the young girl pushed herself to her feet and stood trembling before the much taller shadow. The face of Derrick Arden smiled blithely up at her from the floor where she had knocked his canvas. Slowly, terrifyingly, his face was obscured by the wet red paint from the easel of the other fallen canvas. The red ran like blood into his eyes and nose and mouth. It enveloped his whole head as the specter pointed. Trembling like a withered leaf, Lydia followed its finger to the dresser she had looked through earlier. Not knowing what else to do, she pointed as well. "What….this?"

The specter uttered not a word as she carefully inched toward the area it was pointing at. No matter how high she raised her lamp, the looming figure showed no signs of having a face. The light did not seem to illuminate it at all, as if it were formed of pure shadow. Outside, the prefect slammed both fists against the door in frustration. "I mean it! Get out of my room! I swear, I will give you so many Y's, you'll be writing in Latin until graduation! Open this door, dammit!"

"Violet, was the hell is going on?" A different voice called down the hall.

"Cheslock, help me! Someone snuck into my room and barred the door! We have to get them out!"

Another body joined the first in straining to shove the door inward. Lydia could hear the handle turning, but the piece of wood did not budge. Trying to control her shaking hands, she traced the trajectory of the specter's finger to a stack of two books sitting atop the dresser's edge. Her heart had returned to her chest, and now it was pounding like mad. She tapped the books with a fleeting touch. "….These? Are these what you want me to take?"

The specter dipped the rounded form of its head in a nod.

Outside the door, she heard a frightened shriek. "Stop it! Whatever you're doing, stop it, _please!_ Don't take my things! You can't be in my room! _Get out of my room!_"

Inhaling shallow breaths, Lydia hitched her fingers underneath the hard-backed volumes and tucked them into her robe. She looked at the specter in wild uncertainty. It lowered its arm. She bit her lip and tasted blood. "All right. All right. All right, I've got them. I've got them. So I'll….I'll be going now."

The specter folded itself in and bent forward. In the moment before it vanished, she could have sworn it bowed to her. Then Lydia only had a second of time to drop the lantern and seize her bandaged limb as the door slammed open and the startled bodies of a hooded boy and another with a wild Mohawk fell face-first at her feet.

Lydia breezed out of the room in a swirl of light and reappeared in the alcove, her back pressed against the wall, trembling taking over once again. She heard unwieldy scrambling as her two pursuers stood up. "All right, goddammit, now you've pissed me off! Where are you? Come on, Violet, you look under the bed, I'll get the closet."

"But where did they go? They were right here! I saw the silhouette as the door opened! There was a person holding my lantern. See, right here! Here's the lantern, so where is-?"

A door slammed. "Not in the closet. Come on, Violet, give me a hand!"

"They were touching my things! They were trying to take something!" The frightened prefect continued to monologue as Lydia listened to the sounds of two bodies moving about the room. "Who would do that? Everybody knows that no one is allowed in my room! This is-"

"Goddammit, where the hell are they? They couldn't have left! They woulda had to step on us to get out the door! We need more light! Hey, the moon's almost full, let's open the curtains."

From down below, Lydia heard the sounds of other doors opening and curious voices floating up the stairwell. She adjusted her body and prepared to leave. The shifting and scuffing from inside the prefect's room became more intense. Finally, a baffled voice declared, "I don't believe it. There's really no one here."

"There has to be, Cheslock! Someone was holding the door closed! And I _heard_ a voice! It sounded like it was talking to someone else, so there could have been more than one of them in here!"

"Well then, where the hell are they? Nobody left this room after we came in. All the windows are locked from the inside. Nobody under the bed, or in the closet, or behind the curtains. Nobody under the blankets or hiding behind the furniture. This is fucking _weird._ I heard a voice too, and look-" A scraping sound rang out. "Somebody knocked over your paintings! Aw dammit, they went and ruined this one, too. Red splattered all over this guy's face. You can't even tell what he looked like anym- Violet? _Violet?!_"

Lydia knew she ought to leap away, but she could not stop herself from listening, paralyzed with surprise, as a soft choking sound stirred within the room. There was a heavy noise like a body collapsing, and then frantic, hyperventilated breaths. The other boy's voice rose several octaves. "Violet! _Violet!_ What's wrong? What's the matter, Violet, hey- Are you _crying?_ Why are you crying? Come on Violet, talk to me! Violet-! All right, fine, don't talk to me, but calm down. Calm down, just breathe. Breathe. I'm here for you. I'm right here. Take it easy."

Lights were flaring down the hall, footsteps thudding up the stairs.

"Come on, Violet, ease up. Pull yourself together. The students are coming out now. What do you want me to do?"

She heard a several ragged gasps as the hooded prefect tried to regain control of his breathing. An unsteady, pained voice whispered, "Keep them out. Don't let them in…."

Lydia closed her eyes.

She felt the wind cut through her clothes again as her feet touched down upon the dark-topped lawn. She was a good distance away from Violet Wolf House, and she turned around and watched the lights winking on inside its many windows. Damn it all. She had meant to be discreet, and she had ended up waking the entire dormitory. At least no one had seen her face. But _she_ had come face-to-face with that- that thing-

Lydia laid a hand over her robes, feeling the weight of the books which the specter had bade her take. She turned and glanced around in every direction, scanning the surrounding campus for students, ghosts, Sebastian, anyone…. It seemed to her eyes that she was alone. However, Lydia knew she could no longer take it for granted that she was ever alone. That thing was probably watching now. It could appear and disappear, just like she could….

Hiding her face within the midnight darkness of her hood, Lydia turned and fled the scene of her most recent terror, flying over the dew-soaked lawns on her way back to Blue Owl House.

**Author's note: So I just realized that I have massively freaked out almost every character involved with this chapter. Oh dear... In some ways, I suppose that makes me a bad author. Bad author! *hides below computer screen***

**Final exams are coming up soon, so for the next few weeks I don't know if I'll be able to write as much as I would like to. But rest assured, the plot is building itself in my head every time I think about this story! :)**


	33. The Strength Within

**Hi guys! Final exams are done (and I did pretty well if I do say so myself) so it's time to get back to writing. Here's another chapter for you all! In this chapter there will be several historical references near the end; however, this time I don't feel the need to clarify them beforehand, as I think they are explained properly in-story. Also, before we get started, I want to respond to some pretty cool people...**

**LackofName: I was so happy to read another of your insightful reviews! I enjoy reading your reviews as much as you like reading my story, so we make a great team! I also appreciate that your introspection helps me to focus on aspects of the story I might have overlooked before. And don't worry; I was not by any means planning to quit this story. Sometimes I just get distracted. I'm like a puppy running out of its yard to chase a butterfly, or some other adorable metaphor like that. I wander away until someone gets my attention and calls me back, and only then do I remember, "Oh yeah! I've got something going on over there!" That's basically how my brain operates. XD**

**bbst: Fear not! Edward will get more "screen time" soon! I've got a lot of characters I'm trying to juggle here, but I promise he is important. **

**VampireSiren: This CAN be good! And it shall! Also, I love your avatar. :3**

**Thank you guys for your reviews, and on with the story!**

All day that Sunday, Lydia drifted in a state of such deep thought that she felt like she was staring up at the world from the bottom of a watery pool. Her attention rippled in and out as she wandered discreetly between the library, the gardens, and the rooftops, trying to evade the attentions of Soma, Ciel's acquaintance from a previous case and self-professed best friend. The Indian youth had seen her talking to her brother at Blue House the other day, and seemed to have come to the conclusion that if Ciel felt it was all right to speak familiarly with the older 'boy,' then it was all right for him too. Lydia really had no dislike for Soma- he was a charming, enthusiastic fellow who reminded her of what her father must have been like at that age. She did not know exactly what he was doing here, but Ciel had told her he had summoned him to assist them in defeating Maurice Cole. She was glad Ciel had another friend at the academy, but for her, it was dangerous to speak with anyone who was not aware of her secret. So Lydia dodged about the school grounds all day, keeping her distance.

She was still drifting mentally after the sun had set and the bell for lights out had tolled. Normally she would have been in Sebastian's room at this point, settling down for the night. However, tonight she and the demon were on a special mission. This evening was the final strategizing push in Ciel's plot to secure a place within the favored circle of the P4. To that end they would need to take down Maurice Cole, whose fabrications had caused Ciel to lose their favor in the first place. Under the guise of seeking Sebastian's help in tutoring, Ciel had spent the afternoon and evening in his private room as the demon meticulously pieced together torn scraps of paper which Cole had apparently written to his many hangers-on. Lydia was too focused on the other mysteries surrounding her to really care about these schoolboy deceptions, but apparently the issue had something to do with the Red House fag's determination to use the work of others to make himself seem competent for Edgar Redmond. She and Ciel talked over his strategy as Sebastian worked, interrupted every now and then by a knock on the door which would cause her to skitter into the closet and hide until the caller was gone. Eventually, Lydia felt guilty about making Sebastian do all the work, so she joined him at the table and helped to glue together the rose-shaped missives. This in turn seemed to make Ciel uncomfortable, and he eventually joined in the restoring project as well, Lydia and Sebastian trading amused glances as the young heir glared at the flowery cards with his one visible eye.

Now they had completed their restoration of the evidence and Ciel had returned to his dorm room for lights out. Lydia and Sebastian were currently working outside under cover of darkness, finishing construction for the final twist of their plan. Sebastian had snuck into the second-story art room and attached wires to the backs of all of the canvasses in a way that was hidden to a casual observer of the room. He had thrown the wires out the window and Lydia had gathered them into a coil below, gripped them in her bandaged fist, and dragged them all the way out to the swan gazebo. Using the superhuman strength which they both possessed, demon and human were currently finishing with the task of stretching the wires to the tensile state necessary to conduct sound, and attaching each one to a gramophone-like amplifier which Sebastian had procured from god knew where. Lydia wondered vaguely how they were going to explain the presence of these wires to the P4 tomorrow morning.

"Master."

Lydia climbed down from the chair she was standing upon and looking over at Sebastian, standing under the bone-white overlay of the swan gazebo. "Hmmm?"

"You've been very quiet this evening."

"So have you," she stated honestly, looking around for another amplifier to thread.

"Have you seen it again?"

Lydia did not have to ask what he was talking about. "I see it all the time now. Over the last few days, it's been there almost every time I've looked around. Sometimes in front, sometimes behind me….I look up and see that black shape standing there, just for a second before it's gone. It's like it wants me to know it's there, watching me, making sure I'm keeping on with….whatever it is that it wants me to do. The only time I don't ever see it…." Lydia stepped back onto the chair, swinging her arms up to wrap another wire around an amplifier, "is when I'm with you."

Sebastian glided across the gazebo and reached out a hand to help her down from her perch. "Then you should stay by my side," he murmured. "It is by far the safest place."

"I can't stay by your side all day. Someone would notice," Lydia commented, staring ponderously past him at the black horizon. Over the last few days she had made a herculean effort to condition herself not to jump or spontaneously panic when she caught a glimpse of the shadow-figure watching her. This was not to say she did not find the idea of a mysterious, ghostly presence at her back extremely disconcerting. "It is strange, though. All the times it's been so near to me, even when I didn't know it, it hasn't done a single thing to harm me. It seems like it's almost….trying to….direct me, and provide a safe path to ensure I make it where I'm trying to go."

Sebastian growled, a deadly rumbling in his chest. She had gotten used to the sound of his growl. He had been doing it quite often since they had come to Weston. "Whatever its motives are, its interest in you in unacceptable. Be it man, ghost, angel, or demon, _nothing_ has the right to protect you in _my_ place. It treads on ground it has no claim to."

"Technically speaking, despite the partial bond of my bloodline, you do _not_ have claim to me." Lydia brushed the demon's hand aside. "There is no contract between us."

Sebastian's eyes flared and he seized her wrist in a cement-like grip. "And that is exactly the reason you are troubled by this presence! Please understand that I know what I speak of. A spirit such as I never looks twice upon a human with another's mark upon them. To do so is….unnatural for my kind." He pulled her closer to his body, black robes sweeping around her like a chilling mist. "I suspect that the reason this creature does not appear before you when we are together is because if it were to come too near to me, I would be able to sense its nature. Clearly it is trying to avoid confrontation at present. However, if you were to force an encounter, I could defeat it for you, my master."

Lydia blinked and pushed her hand against the wall of his chest. "I am sure I do not want to _force_ an encounter between a demon and a sinister shadow in the midst of a school filled with innocent students."

"We could-"

"Furthermore, I have no interest in being marked as the property of any such creature," the brunette declared, finally prying her hand out of his grasp. "There will never be a contract between us, Sebastian."

The demon growled again, and his fists tightened until Lydia heard the screech of bending metal. "What good is _any_ of this, then?" he hissed furiously, tossing aside the crumpled amplifier in his hands. Breaking eye contact, he turned his back abruptly and strode to the other side of the gazebo, staring into the pressing darkness.

Lydia trailed after him, unruffled by his anger. "Hey," she called, earning a temperamental grunt from the taller figure. "I'm not saying I don't want you."

He turned his head so only the barest sliver of his red eye shone upon her. Lydia leaned onto the gazebo railing beside him. "The contract is unhealthy. Truth be told, I would prefer you not have a contract with either of us. When I left the manor all those years ago, I thought your obligation to my family would end with my refusal to take the contract. I never imagined it was even _possible_ for Vincent and grandfather to figure out a way to twist the contract and coerce Ciel into taking it in my place." She sighed, draping her wrists over the wooden edge. "But the damage has been done, so now we have to find a way to make it right. And anyway, didn't I come back to you, even without the contract?"

Sebastian ground his teeth in anxiety, turning to look at her more fully. "The damage will be irreparable if you are killed, master. For….everyone. The contract would provide insurance against that kind of mortal danger-"

"But don't you _see,_ Sebastian? If I were to take the contract, I might safely live to be a hundred. But my life would be….warped. I wouldn't be _me._ The young woman standing here right now, she would be gone. I would become like….like what grandfather became. Demanding to be cossetted at every turn, caring for no one, causing pain to all….especially you. Did you think you could avoid that kind of outcome with me by making me believe you loved me?" Lydia shook her head sadly, blue eyes watching the river flow beneath her. "It would never have worked. In that state, I would not have been moved to connect with anything or anyone, just as he was not, even at the very end. His heart was so hardened, he might as well have never had one. Nothing entered, and nothing emerged." She raised her cobalt eyes to the demon. "And a large part of that outcome was your doing."

Sebastian did not look at her. He was quiet for a very long time. Lydia settled into the surrounding rhythm of the night's atmosphere, the calling of frogs, the rushing of trees, the footsteps of river water. She did not know if it was even possible for him to understand what she was trying to explain, but she was gratified that he at least appeared to be thinking it over instead of rejecting it outright. She did not know how much of the night passed before he finally shifted his shoulders and spoke.

"A long, long time ago," he murmured lowly, "It was said to me that I, as the creature I had become, would never cease to bring ruin to everything I touched. That is the nature of myself and my kind. Throughout all the eons I have lived, I have never had any reason to doubt this truth. I do not- I do _not_ make things right. Everything I touch breaks and crumbles. For a demon, this is as it should be….I know how to use it to get what I need. Break the human, take the soul….it is not a difficult task. That is why human society is so averse to demons." Sebastian's mouth quirked up in a humorless half-smile. "It's interesting, if you consider it. One would think demons ought to be perceived as desirable and enviable by human beings. We have everything they value and wish for. Power. Beauty. Immortality. Versatility. One might even say, charisma." Sebastian chuckled lowly. "In the past, we were worshipped in many lands as gods. But your kind is not quite as stupid as they often seem. Very slowly, over thousands of years, they have learned of our true nature based on what happens to those who seek us out for their gain….as your ancestor did, master. None of our masks can change the core of what we are. It does not matter about our looks or our powers, our vitality or our knowledge. It doesn't even matter what we try to do. We never cease consuming, but our hunger never fades. We live for an eternity and never outlast our pain. No matter what we do, it is forever the same. We always….get it wrong."

Lydia felt the night wind rattle around them like the bones of a long-dead animal. She bit her tongue and tasted blood. She did not have anything to say. What could she tell him? What had she seen in her eighteen years of life that could counteract the grinding weight of an eternity spent grasping at straws, only to have them break under his fingers? What was he, in the end? She did not know about any of that. Perhaps she never would. In this place, in this moment, she only had one answer to give.

Sebastian was quiet. He did not care to see the world around him, so he closed his eyes and fell into midnight darkness. He could feel his master breathing beside him, and thought vaguely that perhaps she was beginning to understand the truth that he had never known how to express. The existence of a creature that only brought ruin and negation to everything he touched was meaningless to everyone, especially to himself. No matter what he destroyed or who he consumed, he gained nothing in the end. His hunger and agony would follow him into the pit for eternity, and even then, he still would not understand _why._ It was the most maddening, most painful, most eviscerating question that he-

The gears of Sebastian's thought process jammed suddenly as an unexpected sensation from the outside world flooded in. He opened his eyes to see Lydia's delicate left hand laid softly over his right. The young girl was gazing into the water below, and in her eyes Sebastian could see the spindling of light from the moon's gauzy reflection upon the river.

The demon tilted his head slowly. "Master….did you not hear me say that I ruin everything I touch?" He bit his lip and forced a bitter laugh. "Even knowing that, I still cannot stop trying to hold onto something. I am a selfish creature, after all. But it will always end the same way. It's no good…."

Lydia did not answer or even appear to hear him. She merely opened her hand and interlaced her thin, cold fingers with his. Sebastian blinked and acquiesced to the touch of her soul. He felt as though he was reading a text written in a foreign language. There was something occurring here, and he did not know what it was, but it had everything to do with her open hand, the light spindling in her eyes, even the water and starlight and wind that made up the night as it rushed around them. Sebastian closed his eyes and felt her fragile flesh and bone like an anchor, holding him to something he could not define. When he opened them again, the sun was rising before them at the edge of the world. He folded their hands together fully as the first rays of dawn touched the swan gazebo.

/

Three days later, Ciel's entire life at Weston College had turned completely around. His plan to lure Maurice Cole into the empty art room, confront him with the evidence of his wrongdoings, and secretly broadcast their conversation down to the swan gazebo via metal wires and gramophone amplifiers had taken place perfectly. His clothes had been torn in the resulting scuffle, but in the end, his roughed-up appearance had worked in his favor when Edward Midford and Herman Greenhill had burst through the art room doors to rescue him. Since then, everything had fallen into place. Maurice Cole had been officially disowned as Edgar Redmond's fag, and his reputation thoroughly discredited. An agreeable young boy named Joanne Harcourt had replaced him at Redmond's side, whom Ciel had no quarrels with. He himself had been officially declared as Clayton's fag only yesterday, and today he was on his way to visit the swan gazebo for the first time as a member of the P4's entourage. He was striding down the walkway with Edward and Clayton on either side of him, the other fags a few steps ahead. They all held carefully prepared dishes in their hands, snacks to present to their seniors upon arrival at the gazebo, which had since been restored to its normal state. Students turned their heads and whispered as they passed, and Ciel could not help indulging in a little smirk. Just a few days ago, their whispers had been ones of confusion and malice when they had believed him to have deliberately broken his engagement with the P4. Now they were singing tunes of admiration and envy instead. What was even better, Ciel would not have to see Maurice Cole's aggravating face anymore while working on this case. Victory was sweet.

Turning to look at the chapel building behind him, Ciel's eye caught a flicker of movement from the highest part of the roof. He watched as a slim, uniformed figure leaned halfway past the chimney and flashed him a brief thumbs-up signal. Then the figure turned her head, stared at something in the distance, and ducked quickly behind the chimney again. He could not see what she was staring at, but he knew it was there. Ciel's smirk turned into a somber frown. Victory may be sweet, but it was not his to taste yet. He had a long way to go before he would be able to relax. He and Lydia could not be seen speaking in public too often, as it had already drawn unwanted attention to her, but it was good to know she was keeping an eye on him from a distance, making sure his back was clear. What was not so good to know was that there was also something keeping an eye on her, something not nearly as friendly as she. The fact that his sister was constantly being trailed by a shadowy silhouette was causing him a great deal of anxiety, making him more eager than ever to resolve this case so they could leave this complicated school behind. Ciel had lain awake for an hour last night after lights out, silently rehearsing the conversational strategies he could use to probe for information about Derrick Arden while seeming completely innocuous. Now that he was finally going to the swan gazebo, the young heir was determined to leave its shelter with at least one piece of useful information.

/

"It's not as though this happens often. In fact, I don't think it's ever happened before. A student breaking into a prefect's private room and making off with his personal belongings? I've never even heard of such a thing."

Ciel gazed silently around the interior of the gazebo while everyone nodded their heads in agreement to Bluewer's statement. The blue house prefect pushed his spectacles up the ridge of his nose and fixed his eyes on a cloaked figure curled up on the settee. "Has anything turned up yet at your house, Violet?"

The prefect of purple house shook his head listlessly. "No, nothing. You keep asking me that; don't you think I would tell you if we found something? Nobody saw the intruder come in. No one saw him leave. The dormitory monitors reported no one out of bed during the time the incident took place. The books he stole have yet to be recovered." Violet dipped his head toward his knees in exhaustion. "I don't understand this at all."

The other prefects glanced at each other silently. Ciel got the sense they were all trying to be tactful toward Violet in the wake of the disturbance at his house. Although the Violet Wolf prefect's normal appearance featured tousled hair and shadowed eyes, the degree to which these had accelerated in the last few days made it painfully apparent that he was not sleeping well. Behind him, Cheslock ground his teeth and muttered low profanities. The younger boy was very protective of his house, and seemed to be taking its breach of security very personally. This added to the recent unpleasantness of Maurice Cole's betrayal meant the entire P4 and their entourage were on edge.

Redmond placed his teacup in its saucer and folded his hands. "So then, it is highly improbable the intruder is a resident of Violet Wolf House. But it also seems equally improbable they could have come in from outside without being detected. The doors are not locked, in case of fire, but they are very heavy. If they were to be opened in the middle of the night, the sound would surely alert the monitors to come investigate…."

Bluewer cleared his throat. "However, we have not yet considered the possibility that the intruder could have snuck into purple house during the day and hidden within until nightfall."

Sitting across from them in the large armchair, Greenhill swatted his cricket bat against his palm nervously. "Yes, but they would still have had to open the doors to get back out. Unless they went out a window, and that seems unlikely. The entire dormitory was searched, and all the windows were found locked from the inside, correct?"

"Yes," Violet nodded weakly. "I suppose they could have had an accomplice in purple house to re-lock the window after they escaped….there did seem to be more than one person inside my room, if the voice I heard was anything to go by. However, that second person would have had to move remarkably quickly to avoid being detected by the hordes of other students flooding the halls. And the nature of the things they stole….it just doesn't make sense. They weren't valuable in any way. They were just….books." The prefect chewed on his lip and stared intently at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Ciel raised his eyebrow in masked interest. In spite of Violet's insistence that the stolen objects were just books, the degree of effort he had put into getting them back suggested otherwise. The tousled-haired boy sighed lowly. "Still, it bothers me that I….I can't remember exactly where, but….I could _swear_ I've heard that voice somewhere before."

Ciel decided this would be a good time to distract everyone from their thoughts. "Pardon me, Bluewer?" he inquired politely. "Even with all that's going on….will the fourth of June's annual cricket tournament still proceed as planned? I was so looking forward to watching it for the first time."

"Of course," the blue house prefect said, fixing his stern gaze upon the itinerary laid in front of them. "We cannot allow anything to prevent us from carrying out our duties in keeping the school running, not even this flagrant breach of conduct. The tournament is tradition, and tradition must prevail." He raised his eyes with a more personable expression in them. "I didn't know you were so interested in the tournament, Phantomhive."

"Oh, yes! I love cricket," the young heir lied through his teeth, smiling exuberantly as he sensed the segue he had been waiting for. "However, I am a bit worried about the level of competition between the houses. What do you do when you have friends in other houses?"

"You fight valiantly and fairly against them, of course." Greenhill answered, sitting up straighter in his chair. "Anyone who tries to go easy on you impedes your ability to improve yourself. A true friend will give you his all."

Ciel smiled in appreciation. "I suppose you're right. That makes me feel better. I have a friend in Red House, Soma Asman Kadar, so I was somewhat worried about squaring off against him. And I have a friend in Purple House as well." Ciel made sure he was looking into the faces of all four of the P4, so he could gauge their reactions. "His name is Derrick Arden."

The reaction was instantaneous. Greenhill missed his palm with the cricket bat and struck the leg of his chair. Bluewer's glasses slipped down his nose. Redmond's mouth fell open in a most ungentlemanly manner. And Violet physically jumped as though someone had stabbed him with a needle. It only took a second for them to recover themselves, but Ciel had already witnessed their unconscious betrayal. They knew something.

"Derrick Arden?" Bluewer asked, clearing his throat and striving to fix his glasses. "Yes, in the fifth form...I wasn't aware that you knew him."

"We played together many times as children. I was actually a bit surprised when I first came here and tried to find him. In his letters he said he was in Red Fox House, but I have since learned he has been transferred to Violet Wolf." Ciel tilted his head innocently. "That's unusual, isn't it? For transfers to occur like that?" He could not help noticing that while all of the prefects were focused on him fixatedly, their fags did not seem particularly concerned. Clayton was pouring more tea, Harcourt was adjusting his jacket, and Cheslock and Midford were carrying out a conversation in the background. Interesting….

"Yes," Redmond nodded after waiting in vain for Violet to respond. "He was my fag, for a time. A very capable fellow. His transfer took place some time ago at the order of the Headmaster."

"Is that so….?" Ciel murmured. "How very singular. To suddenly transfer a student in his fifth year, when he had already established a place in his house as the prefect's fag….do you know why he was transferred?" He schooled his face into a mask of calm and waited with baited breath.

"Because the Headmaster ordered it," Greenhill broke in sternly, leaning his bat against his thigh. "No order from the Headmaster is ever wrong."

Ciel sensed the muscled prefect was trying to end the conversation. He considered pressing his inquiry, but decided it would look odd, especially in this kind of an atmosphere. He nodded and pretended to be satisfied.

"Let us all depart to our houses now," Bluewer declared, standing up and eyeing the face of the nearby clock tower. "It's almost time for supper." The other members of the P4 rose quickly in agreement, and the fags began to gather up the dishes they had brought with them. Ciel fetched his coat from the chair behind him and tried not to feel too disappointed by the P4's recalcitrance on the subject of Derrick Arden. He could not expect them to tell him everything on his first visit to the swan gazebo, after all.

"Um- excuse me! I don't mean to hold everyone up, but there was something I wanted to report at today's meeting…."

The occupants of the gazebo turned around at the unexpected voice of Joanne Harcourt. The young boy fiddled with his thumbs, looking a bit cowed in the presence of his seniors. Being new to the entourage of the P4, he was still shy and hesitant to speak. However, his eyes were determined as he raised them. "Normally I wouldn't think too much of it, but in light of what's been going on lately, I thought you ought to know….well….the thing is, I like to take walks in the evening around the perimeter of the campus grounds. I enjoy watching the sunset, you know, and um, the point is, lately I've been seeing….a person while I've been out walking."

"A person?" Redmond asked, raising his eyebrow. "What do you mean? Go on."

"Well, I mean, I see him regularly when I'm walking in the evening. He's on the other side of the fence, standing across the road, always in the same place to the right of the gates. And he just….stands there, watching the school, with nothing else around him but the horse he rode here on. The first few times I didn't pay much attention, but I've seen him at least six times now. I asked him once if he was waiting for someone, and he said yes, but that he didn't want to trouble me about it so I should be on my way. He had a thick accent, cockney, from underclass London….so it seemed odd to think he would be acquainted with anyone here. I'm not trying to be an elitist, but even our servants are higher class, so I just wondered- I mean- I'm rambling now, I'm sorry. I just thought you ought to know."

"What does this man look like?" Greenhill asked, drawing nearer to Harcourt.

The blonde fag closed his eyes. "Well, he's a young adult, and he usually wears a long grey travelling cloak, nothing out of the ordinary. But his hair is unusual. It's bright flaming red. And his face….it's hard for me to see so well in the falling dusk, but I do believe he has some sort of tattoo over his left eye. And his ears appear to have _piercings._ He looks like an altogether unwholesome character. I've never seen him come inside the fence, and I know it's not against the rules to stand outside, but- it's just a bit odd, is all."

A long, cold spear of memory wound itself up Ciel's spine. He felt like it had punctured his lungs, and he tried doggedly to stabilize his breathing so his body language would not give anything away.

"That _is_ odd," Redmond frowned, glancing toward the vacant gates in the distance. "You did well to report it, Harcourt. You're right that we can't fault him for any transgression as long as he stays outside the fence, but all the same, such activity is very suspicious." He glanced around at the other prefects. "I propose we make a report of this and submit it to Vice-Headmaster Agares. He will move it up to the Headmaster, and the Headmaster can decide what our next course of action should be."

The others nodded, and Redmond gave Harcourt's shoulder a pat of approval. "Very well, then. Let us all retire to our houses for supper, and keep a keep a sharp eye out for any further disturbances."

Ciel strode quickly down the walkway to Blue House, allowing Clayton to talk at him without really registering what he was saying. He glanced anxiously up at the now-empty roof of the campus chapel and bit his lip. Tonight he would fake a stomachache to get out of supper, track down Sebastian, and enlist his help in finding Lydia. They needed to warn her right away that her enemies were closing in.

/

Lydia was sitting on the roof of the administration building, dangling her feet off the edge because there was no one around to see her. She was deep in thought, watching the sunset reds and purples streak their way across the sky. She did not look away from the cloudline, for she knew that if she did she had at least half a chance of seeing the disconcerting silhouette of the shadow-specter somewhere in the distance, watching her. In her lap she held the two books it had bade her take from Violet Wolf House. Truth be told, she was still having plenty of trouble figuring out what information she was supposed to glean from them. She had already looked at them at least fifteen times.

One of the books was written entirely in Latin, which had stymied her from the start. Lydia did not understand much Latin. She preferred to study languages like French and Spanish that could be used practically outside of the academic environment. Even if the book had been in English, it was so large and heavy that she would still have been baffled trying to find whatever it was she was looking for. The copy was very old, and bore the title _Summa Theologica._ In order to find out exactly what it was, she had enlisted the help of Sebastian. According to him, the _Summa Theologica_ had been written between the years of 1265 and 1274 by a Catholic priest named Thomas Aquinas. Its roughly three thousand and five hundred pages contained within them the philosophical reasoning behind every major point of Christian theology, from a Catholic perspective, given that Catholicism had been the only extant branch of Christianity in the West until the Protestant Reformation in the fourteenth century. It was immensely frustrating for her to have one of the most influential books in all of Christian thought literally at her fingertips, and yet be unable to read it. Over the past few days, she had begun to search in earnest for a Latin dictionary to borrow from the library. What confused her most about the book, however, was the question of why Gregory Violet owned such a thing in the first place. Catholic influence had been vigorously oppressed in England for hundreds of years, ever since King Henry VIII had separated the Church of England from Rome in 1534. Every primary school child knew this history. So what was the prefect of Violet Wolf House doing hiding a Catholic text from the Middle Ages in his bedroom?

The second book was the polar opposite of the first in every way. It was small, so small, in fact, that it could scarcely be called a book. It was more like a pamphlet, only a few pages long. It was written in English, and unlike the first book, she did not have to ask Sebastian to clarify it. She had read it before as a child, in one of her grandfather's old editions of _The Broadway Journal._ It was written by a man named Edgar Allan Poe, and the story was called _The Tell-Tale Heart._ What she was meant to surmise from this esoteric reading selection Lydia did not yet know. However, on her second time reading through it, she had come across a drawing on the very last page which nearly caused her own heart to freeze in her chest. Standing there upon the paper, surrounded by a miasma of darkness and shifting shadows, was drawn the figure of Derrick Arden again. This time he was not smiling. He was leering up at her, the face under his top hat shrunken and abnormal, a perfect replica of her persistent nightmare.


	34. Dauntless

The falling night cast a chill over the picturesque countryside, making the tiles of the roof Lydia was currently sitting on cool to the touch. Weston's old administrative building was not used for much besides storage nowadays, but it had vaunted rooftops that offered many hiding places, and it was the closest structure to the gates. The young girl breathed softly, eyeing the deserted road outside which led visitors to the locked entrance of the college. She had been watching this area in the evenings over the last several days, waiting for the red-haired man to come again. At first she had been sure he would come, so sure that she had asked Sebastian to arrange to keep watch with her, so he could assist her in capturing her assailant when he made his appearance. However, for three days the man had not shown up, and Lydia was aware that it was beginning to look suspicious for Sebastian to be repeatedly absent from his quarters just before lights out. On the fourth day she had instructed him to return to his regular schedule, and kept watch by herself without incident. Tonight was the fifth night, and the bell for lights out had just tolled. Soon it would be too dark for her to see past the gates, and there would be no point in watching anymore.

Lydia sighed and drew a vague circle with her finger upon the smooth tile. The case had once again lapsed into stagnant inactivity, and it was frustrating both Ciel and herself. According to her brother, the P4 were consistently evasive about any subjects related to Derrick Arden and his friends, their transfer, or their current whereabouts. Ciel had tried sounding out the regular students concerning their recollections of the former Red House fag, and he had gotten a confusing array of answers. According to them, Derrick Arden had been a brilliant poet, a prize-winning painter, an expert in dance, an amazing athlete, and a genius intellectual, along with a bevy of other desirable qualities and skills. The young man apparently had not a single area of weakness. However, oddly enough, when asked about him, a few students merely shook their heads and hurried away looking upset. Neither of the Phantomhive siblings knew what to make of this incoherent array of reactions. The lack of progress in the case had taken its toll on Ciel especially. He was extremely nervous about Lydia's safety, probably more nervous than even Lydia herself. He did not show his concern emotionally like most people did, but Lydia could decipher it in his actions. Every day he managed to track her down within the school and surreptitiously question whether she had seen the shadow-specter again and if it had come near her. And every night after lights out, he pretended to leave his room to go to the lavatory and instead hurried down the hall to Sebastian's quarters to check that she had made it back from her rooftop surveillance of the gates.

Despite frequent frustrations, the siblings had managed to learn at least one thing of help to them, courtesy of Edward. The Green House fag had informed them about a tradition called the midnight tea party which all the prefects and their fags took part in annually, along with the Headmaster and Vice-Headmaster, on the night of June fourth. Such an event would provide the perfect opportunity for Ciel to get close to the school's head and confront him directly about Derrick Arden. Even though Ciel was only the fag of a prefect's fag, he still had the chance to be invited if he was selected as the 'Most Valuable Player' in the upcoming cricket tournament. However, in order to have a chance at that, he first had to be chosen for Blue House's cricket team. Fortunately, they could leave this matter in Sebastian's hands, as it was within his power as housemaster to recommend students to his house team. Even with this decided, Lydia could not help worrying about how exactly Ciel was going to hold his own on the field. Her brother was small and slender, he had no muscle build, and he suffered from chronic asthma. If Lydia had not been doggedly trying to keep herself undercover, the more sensible option might have been to fandangle her onto the house team instead. She was tall and healthy, she had built up hardened muscle due to the physical rigor of her work, and the speed and strength of her right arm could probably carry even athletically weak Blue House to victory. It was an option they were keeping in the closet in case something went wrong with their original plan. Right now, the most important thing was to keep calm, carry on, and stay alert for any changes in the wind. They were British, after all, Lydia mused as she flicked her eyes languidly over the lawn. Having a stiff upper lip was important, even at times when it was simply- good god.

Lydia's eyes widened as she spied something moving through the dusk on the road outside the gates. It was a big animal- a horse. And sitting atop it was a lone, cloaked rider.

For several moments, she forgot what she should do next. Then she realized that if she could see him, there was still a chance he would see her if he looked up. Moving like a hunter in the undergrowth, she flattened herself against the roof and belly-crawled behind the sharp vantage of the roof's curve, out of plain sight. Her uniform dragged across the tile as she rolled over and peeked carefully above the meridian. The rider had halted his horse to the right of the gates. Heart hammering, Lydia watched him remove his hood. Even in the falling darkness, there was no mistaking the ginger brightness of that hair. This was it!

Trembling in anxiety and anticipation, Lydia reached across her body and gripped the bandages upon her right arm. She was not enough of a fool to instigate a confrontation with him alone- these people used revolvers, and if she was hit anywhere on her torso or head, she could be killed immediately. Now that he had come, though, she had a bit of time- according to Harcourt's report, he would stand outside the gates and watch the school for at least half an hour. She would leap back to the entrance of Blue House and seek out Sebastian to come and help her capture him. She was not going to miss this chance. Afterward they would find a place to hold him while they contacted Aberlaine. At any rate, they would surely find out who had sent him, and then they would be-

Lydia's thoughts stuttered to a halt as the tall shape unexpectedly began to move. What was he doing? Was he leaving? No, no-! After a brief moment of confused squinting, she realized he was actually drawing nearer to the bars of the fence. She tilted her head in curiosity and watched him stare through them. She wished she could see his face, but at the same time, she knew that if she could see his face she would be in a lot more trouble than she was now. Suddenly the figure moved in a strange way, bending sideways and leaving the ground. Tasting shock upon her tongue, Lydia watched as he scaled the iron bars like an acrobat. At the top he paused for a moment, contracted his body, and performed a flawless backward flip that carried him over the iron spikes. The red-haired man touched down upon the lawn and immediately began to stride toward the school as his horse munched grass unconcernedly on the other side of the fence.

Lydia's heart began to rattle like a tambourine. This was bad- this was wrong. This was _not _supposed to happen. "No, no, no, no, no," she muttered under her breath as she watched him stalk across the lawn. What the bloody hell was he doing? He kept his gaze fixed forward and walked straight past the old administrative building. He was not looking at her. He did not know she was on the roof. Was he going into the school to try to find her? Or perhaps- perhaps he was coming to kidnap Ciel? Lydia's fingers trembled against the curve of the tile. Son of a gun, this was awful. She did not have time to leap away and track down Sebastian. She knew from past experience that this man was very volatile. Who knew what he had in his head? Lydia had no idea if he was trying to sneak into the school unnoticed, or if he was planning to confront the first person he met about her whereabouts and shoot them if he did not receive the answer he desired. She could not allow that to happen. He had almost reached the lawn of Green House, and Lydia knew the entrance doors were not locked….

_Edward…._

Out of habit, Lydia whispered the Lord's Prayer as she reached across her body again, the only sequence of words that could possibly give her courage at a time like this. She wondered how fast the man could draw a gun. She would just have to hit him faster. She curved her fingers underneath the handkerchief she had tied over her arm. The piece of fabric was from Weston College, and like almost everything else at the school, it had one of its primary rules embroidered around the edges. This one read, _A true_ _student of Weston always acts selflessly in the interest of others._ Lydia closed her eyes and focused her mind on the patch of grass two feet behind the striding shadow. She felt the sting of fear and bitter irony in her heart, and hoped it would not be the last sensation she ever knew.

She lifted off the roof in a whirl of light, and a moment later felt grass underneath her feet. She raised her head to see the grey back of the figure she had been running from all this time. She would do it. She had to do it. She lunged as he whirled around with an alarmed shout. Now she could see his face, the teardrop tattoo, gleaming piercings in the ears. A moment later she collided with him and dragged him back from Green House, taking advantage of his shock to rip the cover off her arm once again. Both bodies vanished in a sudden pulse of light.

They reappeared outside the gates, three feet off the ground and sideways. The man's weight crushed into Lydia's chest as they collided with the dirt road. She could feel his hands grappling with hers amidst a barrage of profane language. Lydia kept a vice-like hold on him and deliberately refrained from re-covering her bandaged arm, allowing them to flicker in and out of the world like lightning, knowing it would disorient him more than it would her. Finally she clapped a palm over the gap in her bandages and the two bodies fell apart onto the grass. Lydia heard a frantic whinny and the sound of racing hooves, and looked up to see the spooked horse racing away down the road. She shoved a layer of gauze over the gap and leaped to her feet as the red-haired man staggered. His eyes were wide and his body trembled. He held his wavering hands in front of his face as if trying to make sure they were really there. His gaze leaped past them into her eyes, and the malevolence returned. "Ye tricky wretch! I knew it-!"

Lydia did not allow him to get his bearings. She tackled him again with a furious war cry as his left hand dove for his waistbelt. For several long minutes, everything was pain and confusion and stabbing fear within the darkness. He went for the heart; she went for the throat. By threatening each other's vital points, they managed to keep an equilibrium as each struggled to get the upper hand by battering the other. Lydia punched him in the face, stunning him momentarily and using those precious seconds to wrest a heavy pistol from his fingers and throw it far away into the grass. He retaliated by whipping out a knife from god knew where, and she could not stop him before the blade speared the fabric of her trousers and sliced into her right leg's calf. Lydia screamed hysterically and panicked as her vision sparked in different colors. If she lost consciousness, she was dead….She reached out blindly and grabbed him by the hair, preventing him from leaping up. As long as she could keep him locked in close combat, her strength would give her the upper hand…. He hacked at her arm with the knife, but it slammed and blunted against the bandages. Her vision returned as the blade veered toward her face, and her hand moved instantaneously, catching it and crumpling it in half. The redhead swore in disbelief as she threw it aside, and he used the opportunity to lunge for her jugular.

They seized each other and fell into a twisting heap, no language needed to communicate the overwhelming instinct to eradicate the threat before them. Lydia gasped and felt hot tears running down her face as she fought for her life- whether they were born from pain or fear, she did not know- and then the strange texture of his right arm slipped for a moment, and she drove her own arm up into his abdomen. He choked and fell off her as his organs were slammed together, and Lydia scrambled to the side and tackled him one last time, clamping her bandaged arm around his throat and wrestling him into a headlock. His body convulsed as he tried to kick her, but he could not see where he was aiming as his hands clawed at her unbreakable arm. Lydia lifted him by the throat and slammed him back into the ground, slinging a knee across his ankles so he couldn't use his legs to fight her. They were both gasping as though the world were running out of oxygen. Finally given a moment of stillness, Lydia looked down and nearly leaped backward as she realized that one of the hands clawing at her arm was a fleshless skeleton hand. She managed to fight her natural instinct just in time. It obviously wasn't real, but why did all these people have prosthetic limbs?! "I'm not falling for that again," she hissed, using her other arm to capture his elbows behind his back. After what felt like hours of dauntless struggle, she finally had him immobilized. The man wheezed painfully, trembling and squirming underneath her grasp, but to no avail. It had nearly cost her life to get him down, and she was _not_ letting him get up again. Lydia figured this was as good a time as any to start asking questions.

"Who are you? Who sent you? What are you doing here?!" she barked, tightening her grip on his elbows as his fingers scraped uselessly against her calf. She forced herself to ignore the burning pain his knife had left there, and gave his body a sharp shake when he did not reply. "Answer me!"

"Kuh-! Uh, uuuuuh!" The man twisted his head as guttural sounds forced their way out of his throat. "Uuuunnnnhh, hhhhnnnnhh…..L- Le- Lemme breathe-!"

Lydia checked the force of her arm and loosened it slightly against his vulnerable neck. It occurred to her that he might have been struggling so manically because he thought she was trying to strangle him. She felt the pulse of his body as he sucked in greedy gasps of air. His clothes smelled of gunpowder. "All right, now use that breath to tell me why you're doing this. Who sent you to murder me?"

He groaned in frustration as his limbs strained to overcome the trap they were caught in. "I- I can't-"

"_Do not mock me!_" Lydia roared, feeling the dark beast of fury rearing in her chest. "You and your lot have been trying to kill me for _months!_ I am not in a mood to be tested!"

"I can't!" he shouted back, struggling madly again for several futile moments. "If he 'ears I said anythin', he'll take in out on-!"

"Who is he? Is 'he' the man you called Father back at the manor? _Is_ he your father?" Lydia ground her teeth at the redhead's reluctance to answer. "Is 'Father' what you call Baron Kelvin?"

Her captive suddenly pitched forward, and it was all Lydia could do to keep him from getting his arms loose as he wrestled frantically with her. She squeezed her arm around his neck until he ran out of the air needed to fight. "Answer me! Is Baron Kelvin the one who sent you? Where is he?"

"Guh! Uuuunnnhh-! Please-! Please don't kill me…. I can't….breathe-!"

Lydia growled at the hypocrisy in his plea. She was not going to kill him, but perhaps if he thought she might, he would talk….? "Is that really something you ought to say to someone you've been trying to kill for at least a fortnight?"

"Please don't! Please-! Ye dinna understand- it ain't fer me I wanna live! All of us- we can't but do what Father says. If we ain't around to put in work fer 'im, he'll throw our lil' siblings outta the workhouse, an' then 'ow'll they live-? Ye got a lil' brother yerself, don't ye? Ye'd do anythin' fer him, wouldn't ye?" The redhead panted and swallowed thickly as she loosened her chokehold on him. "Please, I've never been anythin' but sorry that it's gotta be this way. I dunno why Father wants ye dead, he says it ain't fer us to know. But if we don't do it, he'll put out our brothers an' sisters, an' we can't let that 'appen-!"

Lydia blinked in silence. From that disjointed mess of syllables came a word that stirred a memory in her frightened mind. "The workhouse-? What workhouse is this? You're not talking about Renbourn Workhouse, are you?"

It was clear from the way his whole body froze that he had not expected her to know this name. A moment later, Lydia was weathering another round of thrashing and squirming. She could not keep this hold on him forever. Her right arm could restrain him until judgment day if need be, but the rest of her body was growing tired and weak with the lasting pain of their battle. She gave him an aggressive shake and he fell limp against her chest. For several moments the pair of them panted in silence. She wished once again that she could see his face to gauge what he was thinking. After a minute, he turned his head and murmured in an unexpectedly quiet voice, "Now look 'ere, lass. I dunno 'ow ye found out about the workhouse, but please, please leave it alone. The kids there is jus' kids. They dunno nothin' about….any of this. They're innocents, an' the workhouse is their only chance to survive in this world, like t'was fer us when we were small an' helpless. So please-"

"Now stop. Wait. Wait just a second," Lydia interrupted, a rush of confusion flooding her mind. "I don't understand what you're talking about. Renbourn Workhouse is….abandoned. There's nobody living there. It's just a bunch of overgrown ruins on top of a hill."

The redhead coughed derisively. "Ye ain't gonna git me to talk by foolin' with my 'ead, lass."

"I am not being false with you!" Lydia insisted strongly. "I was there barely two weeks ago, looking for you-! Or Baron Kelvin, or any sort of documentation that could lead me to him, but I found nothing because _there is nothing there._ That place has been deserted for a good amount of time. I assumed the children had been dispatched to another charitable institution after Baron Kelvin stopped funding the workhouse."

The tall man twisted his back and tried to shake his head. "I don't….understand…."

"Where have you been living, under a rock?!" Lydia demanded indignantly. She did not know how this conversation had gone from her demanding information from him to her divulging information to him. "I have no idea what sort of thing is going on with the workhouse or with your siblings. I only know that Renbourn is no longer a functioning organization. If you have questions about that, perhaps you should have asked your bloody _father._"

"You're _lying!_" he roared, so loudly and angrily that it made her jump. "Ye think ye can wheedle me into givin' away my people by actin' like ye know every damn thing-"

"Shut up!" Lydia roared back, suddenly reminded of the way this man had stopped at nothing to terrorize herself and her brother. "I am not going to waste time arguing with you about something I viewed with my own eyes! I told you where I went! I told you what I saw! I can even tell you the names of some of the children who once lived there-" Lydia closed her eyes and pictured the small, heart-shaped carving in her mind. "Josiah, Charlotte, and Laura. And god dammit, this is not about Renbourn Workhouse, anyway! I want to know where Baron Kelvin is living _now!_"

To her great chagrin, she realized he seemed to have stopped listening to her. She felt the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard and arched his back, tilting his body in a way that finally allowed them to see each other eye-to-eye. "L-Laura….?" he whispered roughly. "Ye know 'er….my lil' sister?"

"I know her _name,_" Lydia clarified, "because I found it carved onto a piece of wood in the ruins of the workhouse. I have not personally met anyone who used to reside there because, as I've said countless times, there _is_ no Renbourn Workhouse anymore."

The young man blanched at these words and stared blankly into the atmosphere. "I don't….understand. 'Ow….'ow could that be-?" He began breathing heavily as a sort of panic seemed to overtake him. "No-!" Lydia bit her lip and tightened her protesting limbs around his body in case he started to struggle again. This was not working out at all. Whatever he had been led to believe about Renbourn Workhouse, it was apparent that he was incapable of focusing on anything else at the moment. She would have to take him somewhere he could be contained, and then they would have the time and freedom necessary to interrogate him. Her mind ran over a list of possible secure locations. The tower? Too unstable. The townhouse? Too close to the civilian population. Scotland Yard? She could not leap there directly with him, as someone would surely see them, but if she appeared in her house on Camden Street, she could enlist her father's and Thoms' help to get him to headquarters. These people already knew where she lived, most likely, so she would not be giving anything away….Lydia glanced over her body, wondering how she would get her bandages off without releasing him. Maybe she could just tear into them with her teeth-? And she would have to focus perfectly…. She pressed her arm against his shoulder, slowly loosening the gauze. His body stiffened once again. "What're ye- don't-!"

"You are coming with me," she declared in a voice which left no room for argument. He objected anyway, both physically and vocally, her words seeming to have touched off the tinder of whatever fight he had left. The redhead struggled like a madman as Lydia held on and waited for a lapse in his efforts so she could strike for her bandages. At one point he managed to wrest one of his legs free and flailed desperately with it, kicking her in the torso before she pushed him facedown onto the road.

He screamed in tempered rage and terror. "Lemme go, goddammit, _lemme go_! I gotta see it fer myself, I gotta find my sister-!"

"You should have made sure Kelvin was keeping up his end of the bargain _before_ you tried to kill me!" Lydia growled, pressing down on him relentlessly. A small, observant part of her mind could not help but sympathize with his fear and confusion, but it did not change the reality of the situation. She could not let him free when he might very well return again to kill her and capture her brother.

The redhead startled her with a broken sob. "We couldn'- we couldn' leave- It was- forbidden-" He panted frantically and shuddered once again. "T-This can't….be happening….'ow could he….Father….?" He lifted up his head, and suddenly his sundry eyes sparked and blazed with an unnatural glow that seemed to come from out of nowhere. "What the-?"

Lydia gasped in alarm at the sudden wild light. Squinting, she gazed in the direction he was staring and realized his eyes were reflecting a strange luminance which seemed to be manifesting out of nowhere in the cold night air. She watched as the light grew brighter and more violent, until it suddenly began to reveal lines, roofs, windows…. From far across the campus, she heard the eerie sound of many panicked cries at once. One of the main buildings was on fire.

The young girl exclaimed in disbelief, her heart clenching with an intense fear that nearly left her writhing in agony. What was this-? Could she have been mistaken to assume he had come alone tonight? "What is happening? Is this your henchmen's doing? _Is it?!_"

Lydia wrenched painfully on his neck, and the redhead sputtered in protestation. "We ain't got nothin' to do with it, I swear to god-! I dunno nothin' about anythin' bein' on fire!"

"Son of a-!" Lydia felt like throwing her hands in the air in thoughtless panic. Nothing, absolutely nothing, not one single thing was going as planned tonight. She could not tell from this distance which of the buildings was in flames, but judging by the shouts and screams carrying along the wind, it was one that was currently inhabited by many students….which meant….one of the four houses. A thousand icicles of terror suddenly crystallized in Lydia's veins.

_Ciel….!_

The young man's forehead collided with the ground as Lydia pushed herself off him. Her body seized up, feeling lighter than air as she finally released the stringent grip she had struggled to maintain for so long. She took several hurried steps backward and fell into the grass with a cry of pain. Her injured leg protested wickedly against the demands of supporting her body. Lydia scrambled away on her bottom and managed to get to her feet again as the redhead rolled over and weakly pulled himself to his knees. They stared at each other in the growing luminance of the fire, both pairs of eyes speaking to the inferno within. Lydia moved her left hand near to her bandaged arm. "I'm going," she said, glancing hurriedly toward the school. "I've got to make sure my brother is safe. But this isn't over. We'll settle this another time."

The redhead nodded, climbing to his feet and clutching his neck, seeming fearfully relieved to find it unbroken. "Be on yer way, then. I won't trouble ye more tonight. But know this-" the man closed his eyes and shuddered. "If I find out ye lied about Renbourn, I'll be at yer back jus' like before."

Lydia nodded too. "Go there," she challenged him, shifting her focus to the center of Weston's campus. "See what a liar I really am." A second later she was gone.

She felt her feet collide with pavement and her right leg buckled under her. Moaning in exhaustion, Lydia swiveled her head to make sure she was alone before stooping low and ripping a length of fabric off of her already-torn trousers. She tied it over the main source of blood on her tender calf and stood up, feeling the makeshift bandage keeping pressure on the wound. She knew immediately which direction to go. The sky to the east was bright as day, as if the sunrise had come before midnight. Testing out her gait, Lydia began to jog on trembling legs, progressing to a run and then a sprint as pure adrenaline set in and swept away all thoughts of pain. She felt her body harden as she raced once again toward the jagged form of certain peril, praying only that her little brother was stationed far away from it.


	35. A Night on Fire

**Hey guys! Another update here for you. I don't know why I do this to myself, but I wrote and edited this all in one sitting. *collapses onto desk* So I am going to post it now and pass out in my bed. If you want to make me happy, you could leave me some reviews...because that is what authors love. Seriously, I'm pretty sure all writers are like this. Reviews are like our candy. So if you give me candy, I'll eat it and get really hyper and stay up late into the night writing things for this story! :)**

**On a slightly related note, I have discovered there is a Ciel Phantomhive cosplayer in the new town I recently moved to. I've seen this person twice while walking to class, and I don't why they're dressed as Ciel or where they get their clothes (it's a really good cosplay,) but I am wildly curious. I wonder if it would be impolite to approach them and ask...?**

Lydia's feet pounded over the earth as she raced across the lawn toward the source of the towering column of smoke pressed vividly against the nighttime sky. She had already passed by Green House and Red House, and as she dashed around the side of the servants' quarters, she could tell from the direction of the blaze that Blue House had been spared. It was Purple House that was in flames.

This did not extinguish her desire to help. Making sure her hair was tucked underneath her shirt's collar, Lydia dashed across the grass and found herself in the midst of a melee of students from all four houses. Everyone was hurrying about in confusion, shouting to each other over the crackling of flames, without any apparent rhyme or reason as to where they were going. Lydia dithered helplessly in the crowd before getting her bearings and shouldering her way to the edge, where she observed a wide line of students streaming down the path away from the burning building. The fire appeared to have started on the left side of the first floor, where she could see a broken window expelling thick clouds of smoke. Another window shattered under the heat and pressure from within, and everyone in the crowd winced.

"You lot, quit standing around and get some water! We need water over here! And room monitors, hurry up on that damn roll call and report to the prefect!"

Lydia's head snapped to the right at the sound of the voice, bellowing above all the others. Forcing herself to ignore the wetness of blood running down her calf and soaking into her shoe, the young girl ruggedly forded her way through the mess of students until she spotted the owner of the voice, the Purple House fag with the tall hair. She seized his shoulder and deepened her own voice a few notes. "Hey! Is everyone out of Purple House?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to figure out, mate!" the young man barked as he flagged down several other boys heading his way. "Room monitors! Have you accounted for everyone in your rooms?"

Five of the boys nodded; the sixth did not. His face was pale and his mouth drawn. "Cheslock, we've counted everyone but Lowery. I can't find him. I've gone through my group twice, and he's not mixed up with any of the other dorm groups, either."

Cheslock swore and ran a hand through his wild hair in frustration. "Goddammit all! Are you sure?" The boy nodded. "Go and report this to Violet. I'll- I'll think of something-"

The group of boys hurried past him, and Lydia stepped back to give the Purple House fag space as he paced anxiously in a tight circle, staring at his burning dormitory. Another window exploded with enough force to make the crowd scream. Suddenly, the young man had slung his jacket over his shoulder and taken off toward the building with the speed of a flying shadow. Lydia gasped at his courage and his impulsivity. "Hey-! What're you doing? You shouldn't go alone!" The boy did not turn around. A moment later Lydia realized what she was saying, swore under her breath, and sprinted after him.

She caught up to him as he dashed through one of the side doors on the right end of the building. The hallway was filled with so much smoke that Lydia could scarcely see the paintings on the walls, but the fire was still confined to the left side of the dormitory. However, Lydia knew from experience how quickly flames could spread. She seized Cheslock's arm as he tied the sleeves of his jacket over his face. "All right, if we're gonna do this, we've got to stay low to the ground. That's where the air is. And no matter what, do _not_ lose sight of your exit. Where is this student's dorm room?"

The Purple House fag looked surprised that someone had followed him. Nevertheless, he handed her a handkerchief to cover her own face and jerked his head. "It's this way." Lydia took her last breath of almost-clean air as they plunged into the dim depths of Purple House, hunkering low to the carpet. Lydia followed close behind him, painfully aware of how easy it would be to become separated in this thick smoke. Cheslock bellowed the missing student's surname as they dashed through winding hallways, the air growing hotter and heavier as they neared the center of the building. Lydia followed suit. "Lowery! Lowery, can you hear us?! Make some noise if you can! Lowery! LOWERY!"

From further across the building, Lydia heard the crunch and thunder of furniture collapsing as the ceiling caved in. She flinched at the sudden familiarity of this setting, wondering if she was going to be killed in the same way they had thought Vincent had died for so long. Killed in flames, with no final words…. No, she had to keep her head. They were not trapped in this fire. Their exit was still open. Cheslock pulled up short as they reached a set of wooden doors. "This is it!" He grasped the handle, then withdrew his hand with a cry, crunching his teeth in pain. The metal handle had warped in the heat, sealing the door shut. "Dammit all! Lowery, are you in there?!"

"Let me do it!" Lydia shouldered past him and gripped the warped handle in her bandaged hand. She saw the white gauze crisp under the heat, but she felt no pain of flesh or bone. Normally she would have been more reluctant to use her strength in front of a stranger, but if they did not find the boy and retreat quickly, they were going to pass out from inhaling too much smoke. She lashed her arm backward and wrenched the handle right out of the door, taking a large chunk of wood with it. She glimpsed Cheslock's shocked face for a moment before she slammed the broken door open and dashed into the room. "Lowery?! Lowery, are you here?!"

"His bed's over there!" Cheslock yelled, pulling her toward the end of the room. The large dormitory had books and clothes scattered all around the beds, telling her its occupants had left in a great hurry. The Purple House fag swore as they reached the indicated bed and found it empty. "Goddammit all to hell in a handbasket! Where the bloody hell is he?" He turned his head about in desperation. "Check the rest of the room!"

Lydia and the young man raced among the beds, throwing blankets off of mattresses and upturning chairs and tables, searching for any sign of an unconscious body. Lydia punched her way into the dormitory closet and rifled blindly through rows of clothes, in case the frightened student had tried to take refuge inside. Cheslock checked the attached washroom and lavatory. When they re-emerged, both could tell from the other's face that they had not found Lowery.

Something loud and very close roared out in the hallway, accompanied by great bodies of smoke rolling past the halfway-open door. Something much nearer to them was on fire. Lydia dove for the ground as the room became so full of smoke that she could no longer see Cheslock. "We've got to leave! We've got no choice! He could be anywhere- we can't search the rest of the building until we put out the fire! There's no time!"

Suddenly a hand swooped through the smoke and lifted her by her shoulder. "We're goin' out the window!" she heard the boy shout, and the next second a breath of fresh air rolled into the room as a nearby window grated upward. Cheslock boosted her toward the air and she dragged him out after her. Lydia's face met squarely with the branches of a bush as the two young people tumbled down a small incline and came to rest under the shadow of the fiery monolith of Violet Wolf House, coughing and gasping as the night reeled around them. Cheslock growled deep in his throat, staring up at the day-bright windows of his burning house. "Damn….dammit all…."

"Cheslock! Cheslock, where are you?!"

The Purple House fag bolted upright, staring in the direction of the main entrance. He scrambled upward, seized her arm, and pulled her to her feet. "Come on!"

Lydia ran behind him, surreptitiously checking her bandages to make sure they were still covered. The gauze on her hand was scorched from touching the burning handle, but not so much that it would disintegrate. Reaching the main entrance of the dormitory, she saw that the students in the crowd seemed to have located a water source. A long line of males from all four houses were streaming toward the entrance, buckets in hand. A few who had run ahead were straining to open the huge double doors so the water-bearers could attack the heart of the fire. Lydia spotted three of the room monitors running toward them across the lawn. "Cheslock! There you are! We found Lowery! He was sitting in the grass the whole time!"

This time both Cheslock and Lydia swore profusely. The room monitor who had spoken stepped back, looking concerned. Cheslock schooled his features into a façade of calm. "Good. I'm glad he's alive. Now go find him, give him a right smack on the noggin, and tell him I'm gonna kill him!"

The room monitors scampered off again, looking cowed. Cheslock breathed raggedly while Lydia snorted in fury, glaring at the crowd of frightened students and one irresponsible idiot. Of all things-!

"Cheslock! Give us a hand with these doors!" grunted one of the students currently trying to claw the massive doors open. "We can't touch the metal!" He jerked his fingers away before the sliding wood clamped shut on them.

The Purple House fag hurried over to the doors as the water-bearers drew nearer. He appraised them for a moment, then rolled his shoulder sideways and turned to Lydia. "All yours, mate."

"What's a bookworm from Blue House going to d-" the student started derisively, only to catch his words in his throat as Lydia strode forward, grasped the handle in her small fist, and hauled the door backward with huffs and groans of effort. She did not have to fake the strain upon her body- her right arm handled the weight just fine, but her torn leg which she had braced against the pavement was once again burning. Lydia shoved the door into the wall and staggered over to the other one. The Purple House students helped her push it open, then ran off to claim their own buckets, the one boy glancing back at her and muttering something that ended with the word 'freak.' Cheslock braced himself against the blast of smoke from inside, then began hollering toward the water-bearers, "Cover your faces and try not to inhale the smoke! Stay low to the ground! You! Cover your face! I mean it!"

Not knowing what to do, Lydia backed out of the way as the horde of students swarmed through the doors, staring in alarm into the fiery interior. She could actually see the flames from the front door. Deciding she had better bring some water as well, Lydia limped down the walkway toward wherever the line of boys were getting their buckets. She had made it halfway when she was grabbed from behind with such force that she was momentarily lifted off her feet. "You there!" a resounding voice boomed above her head. "You're a strong fellow, I see. Help us haul this barrow up the steps!"

The startled girl stared upward into a pair of stern green eyes, then turned her gaze to the hulking, wagon-like contraption he and several others were pushing toward the building. It was brim-full of water. Steeling herself, she nodded and braced her shoulder against the side of the huge cart while the Green House prefect did the same on the other side. The other students pushed from behind as they wheeled the cart turn-by-turn toward the entrance. Getting it up the steps was such hard work that none of them paid any mind to the sheets of water sloshing over the top and drenching their clothes. Lydia clamped her bandaged arm around the base of the wagon and lifted it just enough to roll the wheel over the top of each stone step. Despite her weakened state, she was impressed by Greenhill's ability to keep up with the pace she was setting. He truly was a paragon of athletic excellence. They reached the top with gasps of relief and proceeded to maneuver the barrow through the doors and down the smoke-filled hall. "We've got water right here!" Greenhill bellowed at the students returning from the head of the blaze.

With their water source inside the building, the boys did not have to cover nearly as much distance as they raced back and forth in focused determination, hurriedly throwing water on the flames which had nearly spread into the entrance hall. With those put out, they were able to work their way back down the hall toward the origin point of the blaze. Lydia found two buckets on the ground and was whisked along into the ceaseless line that cycled between the fire and the water barrow. She was glad no one was looking at her face, as she was sure it was contorting in pain each time she took a step with her right leg. Damn that red-haired man and his knife! Of all the nights she could have been injured, of course it had to be the one in which a major structure caught on fire. How on earth had the blaze started, anyway, Lydia wondered as she staggered toward the flames with full buckets for the umpteenth time. She had no evidence, of course, but could it have anything to do with Derrick Arden?

The flames made one last stand in a room toward the end of the hall, causing several boys to stagger backward from the intensity of the heat and smoke. "Keep low to the ground!" Lydia shouted their way. A moment later, she had to duck behind the student in front of her as one of the boys raised his head and turned around. She glimpsed fearful shock in the lit-up eyes of Gregory Violet as he strained to locate her familiar voice. One of the other boys pulled him down again, and she made it past him unseen.

Lydia was one of the last to empty her buckets over the tiny spurts of flame still burning. The fire seemed to have begun in a side room on the left end of the building. In the silence that followed the last flame's extinguishment, she stared around the torched room in dumbfounded exhaustion. The ceiling had collapsed, and one of the walls had as well. She could not even tell what this room had been used for anymore, although she could see the skeletons of melted sculptures and gutted paintings littering the floor. Lydia turned and looked at the others standing in the room, and for a moment they all shared a single gaze, as though asking one another if the fire was truly done with. One by one they turned away and silently retreated down the hall, uncovering their faces and scrubbing at the soot stains on their clothes. Lydia sighed heavily and turned to follow them, trying to keep as much weight as possible off her right leg. Something golden flashed before her eyes, and a tiny clinking sound at her feet made her stop.

Gazing downward, Lydia stooped over and picked up the object, squinting at it in puzzlement. It was a key. A plain, brass key that appeared to have just fallen from the sky-

Lydia glanced up through the missing ceiling on impulse. She could not help the scream that ripped itself suddenly from her lungs. Her right leg finally gave out, and Lydia hit the floor on her hip in a burst of dazed pain. Above her head, leaning down over the edge of the hole made by the cave-in, was the midnight-black specter. It tilted its head toward her as if she were a curiosity, like a falcon about to seize its prey….

"Hey! You there! Are you okay?"

Lydia's terrified eyes fell down to the approaching figure of Soma, his white shirt streaked with soot. The Indian youth observed her crumpled on the ground, and moved immediately through the rubble. "Ah, it's you! From Blue House, right? You'd better let me take you outside, you look like you've pushed yourself too hard. Breathed in too much smoke, I should say. Come on now, up you get…." He slung Lydia's arm over his shoulder and the brunette's head rolled back as he pulled her up, searching the gash in the ceiling for any sign of the obsidian nightmare. It was gone. Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt it would hammer its way right out of her chest. Her left hand clamped convulsively around the key. She leaned heavily on Soma as he walked slowly down the steps and over the lawn. "That was quite a rout, wasn't it? For a moment I thought the whole building would go up in flames! But we were able to protect everyone and save most of it in the end. Hey-" he glanced down worriedly at her listless figure. "Here now, I'll take you over to where my house is tending the injured. You'll want to have them look at your leg."

Lydia's mind was in too much turmoil to argue with him. Any plan that involved her finally sitting down sounded good to her. Soma brought her over to a small huddle of students and lowered her carefully into the grass. "We need some medical supplies over here!" he called, and someone called back in affirmative. A moment later, a flash of blonde cut across her vision and Edgar Redmond was kneeling beside her. The appearance of the Red House prefect surprised her momentarily out of her shock. When she had seen him lounging around on campus, she had assumed he was far too pretty and regal to ever involve himself in any sort of heavy lifting, as the expression went. However, in the face of Violet Wolf House's crisis, he seemed to have removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and joined his fellow classmates in tending to those injured while fighting the fire. His hands were cold as he tucked them under Lydia's trouser leg and lifted it. "I say, this is quite an injury. How did this happen to you?"

Lydia coughed and ducked her head. "Ah….the smoke….inside. I got….disoriented, and I….fell. I don't know what I struck my leg on."

"I see." Redmond bent lower over her calf. "Well, you've certainly done your part, lad, so just hold still while I inspect this…." Working with dexterous fingers, he removed her shoe and sock, which were soaked through with blood. The makeshift bandage had come off at some point, so the wound was gaping and exposed. Lydia cringed as she looked at it. The redhead's knife had not pierced her calf so much as torn it, meaning the wound was long instead of deep. It reached all around the rear of her calf, and it _hurt._ Soma supported her shoulders as Redmond soaked a washcloth in a bucket of water and began to clean the wound. She watched the Indian prince's hands to make sure they did not stray too low…. At least she had been stabbed in her leg, and not her chest. Legs were not particularly revealing of gender, especially not hers, which were muscular from many hours of trekking in the woods. She spotted some of the other housemasters directing the flow of students away from Purple House, and wondered if Sebastian was around. It would be helpful if she could alert him to her presence, but she did not see him…. She flinched at the washcloth's contact with her injured flesh.

"I know it hurts," Redmond murmured in a low, calming voice. "Just bear with it a little more….we'll get some bandages…." He lifted his eyes suddenly to her right arm. "What's this? Was this caused by the fire as well?"

Lydia shook her head, withdrawing her hand. "Um, no. That's….something I've had since childhood. It's perfectly fine."

"Redmond! We're clearing out here! We're going to move the rest of the injured students to the- ah!" The three people on the ground shifted their gaze up toward the voice of Edward Midford, who was striding toward them hurriedly. His eyes fell upon Lydia, and he faltered mid-stride and stared at her in shock. While the other two were watching him, the brunette pulled an urgent face, and he recovered himself just in time. "To the….to the main hall. We- ah!" His face spasmed again, then colored furiously as he observed Lydia's leg lying exposed upon the grass. While the nobleman sputtered, Lydia went to great pains to keep herself from blushing as well. A boy would not be embarrassed to have another boy touch his leg, especially not in these urgent circumstances….she had to put her modesty aside and behave as would be expected of a male.

Redmond tilted his head in puzzlement. "Midford, are you all right?"

Edward stared determinedly into the prefect's eyes, trying to narrow his range of vision as much as possible. "I- well- yes….I'm fine. I'm just a bit distraught in the face of all this chaos."

"Don't fret, the worst is over." Redmond assured, bending toward the medical kit at his side. "Now hold this lad's leg up for me while I bandage his wound."

"Aaaaauuuggghhhh!"

"Really, Midford! This boy is bleeding!" the Red House prefect barked authoritatively.

Edward flinched, and then, looking as though he might faint with mortification, took hold of the barest edge of Lydia's ankle and supported it while Redmond uncurled a swath of bandages from a metal ring. The Green House fag squeezed his eyes shut for a very long, awkward moment, before peeking quickly into Lydia's face. "Uuuummm….how are you doing….mate?"

"I'm all right," Lydia answered in her lower-toned male voice, causing Edward's eyebrow to twitch. "I just got myself a little injured in the fire. Do they….do they know how it started?"

"They do not," Edward replied while Redmond carefully compressed her wound and wrapped gauze tightly around it. "Although it seems they are suspecting arson."

"Arson!" Lydia exclaimed, almost forgetting to deepen her voice. "What have they-"

"Redmond!" a youthful cry rang out across the lawn. "The housemasters are calling for a meeting between themselves and the prefects right away!"

Redmond finished his work on Lydia's calf and patted it to make sure the gauze would hold. Satisfied, he stood up to greet his new fag, whose name Lydia did not recall. "Is that so? I'll be on my way, then. See that these injured boys make it back to their houses, Harcourt."

"I will-!" The younger boy nodded and cleared the way for Redmond, blushing slightly. His eyes moved past him to Lydia as Edward set her leg quickly but gently upon the ground. "Got hurt in the fire, did you? How terrible! Here, I'll help you up."

Lydia was still hiding her right hand behind her back, so he seized her left as he pulled her to her feet. His eyebrow raised in puzzlement as he opened their connected hands. "Oh? What's this?"

"Ah!" Lydia started, remembering the key and the reason she had it. "That's just….something of mine. I was making sure it hadn't fallen from my pocket in the fire."

Harcourt nodded, accepting her story without question, and Lydia wondered how she was going to shake him off long enough to get away before she reached Blue House. Fortunately, Edward stepped in. "Er, Harcourt, you can go and assist the others. I'll take this lad back to Blue House."

The young boy nodded in thanks and hurried toward the other figures sitting on the grass. Lydia gave Edward a tired smile as the Green House fag slung her arm over his shoulder and proceeded to guide her down the walkway. "I am so, so sorry for my improper conduct just now," he muttered under his breath.

Lydia couldn't help herself- in spite of everything, she gave a tiny laugh. "No harm done, Edward. I don't care about you touching my leg at a time like this."

"You shouldn't have taken such a risk-" the young man started to scold, before he cut off as Lydia paused in her unsteady gait. A few feet away stood a hooded figure, his back turned to them and his face buried in his hands. Even though he doing so very quietly, Lydia could tell he was weeping as he stared toward his smoldering house. She felt a pinprick in her heart. Poor Violet. Her first, thoughtless instinct was to comfort him- her right hand twitched as though to reach out and rest upon his shoulder- but she remembered herself a second later and retracted it. He knew her voice as the person who had broken into his room. And he knew her face as the girl whose hands he had drawn that day in the library. Even in his current distraught state, he might be able to piece the fragments together and realize her identity. Curling her hand into a fist, Lydia sighed and limped past him with Edward at her side. A minute later, the swell of a familiar tone up ahead caused her to lift her eyes. "Hey!" She waved her arm and flagged down the unruly figure of Cheslock, who was talking to another boy on the path. "You might, um, you might want to go over there and speak to Violet. I think he's quite upset."

The Purple House fag's eyes leaped through the crowd and settled on the lone figure standing miserably before the steps. "Ah-ha! There he is!" He whacked her firmly on the back, and Edward sputtered in indignation. "Thanks for everything, mate." He nodded once and rushed away.

"So….arson?" Lydia whispered to Edward as they pretended to be angling toward Blue House. "Do they have any idea who….?"

"No, not yet." The blonde boy whispered back. "But they think it was someone from outside Purple House. Students reported hearing the shattering of glass just before the fire started, and the charred remains of a lantern was found in the room where it originated."

"So someone threw a bloody lantern into Purple House- with everyone inside? Who would do something like that?" Lydia hissed, wincing as she brought her right foot down too hard. "And why?"

"No idea," Edward muttered darkly. "I know you were responsible for the break-in at Purple House earlier, but I knew you wouldn't have taken it this far, even before I saw you sitting on the lawn."

"I appreciate your faith in me," the brunette said honestly, gazing at the smoky moon above them.

Edward cleared his throat roughly. "Of course. I-"

"There you are!" a chipper voice sang out behind them. A moment later, the pair found themselves joined by the energetic figure of Soma, who took it upon himself to playfully sling Lydia's other arm over his shoulder so she was supported from both sides. "How's your leg?"

"What are you so happy about?" Edward questioned before she could reply. "Violet Wolf House has gone up in flames and the entire school is in an uproar!"

"I know, I know," the Indian prince grinned apologetically at the pair of them. "That's all bad news, for sure. But….don't you think this is at least a little bit nice?"

"_What's_ nice?" Edward demanded.

"_This,_" Soma spread his other arm around them at the crowds of students milling slowly down the pathway. "It's never been like this before. Red House and Blue House, Green House and Purple House, all working together to protect each other and achieve a common goal. That's a good thing, especially since all I've ever seen them do is fight about whose skill set is better. I'd like it if things could be like this more often, you know? Not including burning buildings, of course, but this…." The dark-skinned boy smiled innocently. "This is nice. Don't you two agree?"

Lydia and Edward peered hesitantly at each other. Edward grumbled something unintelligibly, and Lydia stared around them at the other students, the weariness of victory on everyone's faces. They had put out the fire. They had done their part. They had protected their school. And though it had happened in the most unexpected of circumstances, Lydia had finally come out of the background and engaged with the others, and for this moment….no one was looking at her as though she did not belong. They were just three young people striding arm in arm away from a battle well-fought. She gave the boys a sunrise kind of smile and clenched her fingers tightly around the key buried in her palm. "I do."


	36. Crisis

**I hope all my readers had a happy Easter! I also hope you were the recipients of many chocolate eggs. Here is a belated gift for you- a new chapter! **

**LackOfName: Haha! I like reading all your theories. Not gonna say whether or not they're on track, obviously, (no spoilers!) but I enjoy them regardless. And don't worry, I've had the immediate future of this fic planned out for a while now. It just takes time to bring it to fruition, which is why I like reviews, because they help me write faster. :)**

"Have you completely lost your bloody _mind?!_"

Lydia clenched her fists on one side of the tower, leveling an incredulous stare at Ciel on the other side. The young heir's back was stiffened like an angry cat, his body postured defensively as he faced his older sister. Standing against the wall and halfway melded into the shadows, Sebastian watched the scene with patient, calculating eyes.

Ciel clenched his teeth and held his ground. "I did what was necessary to move the investigation forward! I don't see what you're so angry about. Everyone got out safely-"

"Which was a matter of pure chance! You couldn't have predicted it!" the older girl raged furiously. Ciel had never seen her face so flushed, or her eyes so piercing. In the back of his mind he regretted telling her about his role in the fire, even though she would have figured it out herself sooner or later.

He struggled for a moment to find a reply. "How was I to know you were going to go racing into a burning building for no good reason? I expected you to act like a sensible person and stay out!"

"You are _unbelievable!_" Lydia growled, shaking her head aggressively. "What was the point?! What information did you gain, other than the fact that Derrick Arden and his friends are not in Purple House, which we could have found out anyway if you had just kept to the original plan to sneak inside the dormitory during daylight hours? What have you got to show for all the trouble you've caused?!"

"I am not required to justify my actions!" the young boy hit back, feeling more and more cornered in the miniature room pressed against the sky. The softened sunlight cascading through the clock face did nothing to calm his mood. "I am the watchdog of the Queen, and I am given leave to do whatever I like as long as it results in a solution for the troubles plaguing Her Majesty!"

Lydia scoffed caustically. "That's hardly an answer at all. The ends don't always justify the means, Ciel! Do you think Her Majesty will be glad if you find five boys but kill ten others? Or twenty? Or thirty?"

"I _was not_ going to let them burn to death!" Ciel shouted in frustration, growing increasingly distressed at the new and much colder way his sister was looking at him. "I was going to send Sebastian inside to evacuate any stragglers! Particularly Derrick Arden and his friends, as they persistently refused to emerge. But then Sebastian informed me that all traces of human souls inside Purple House had vanished, which was when I realized they had never been there in the first place, so I sent him to bring water to put out the fire."

"And a fine job you did of it, too!" Lydia jerked her hands toward the bandages soaked in cooling salve which she had wrapped around her throat to counteract the choking effects of smoke inhalation. "For God's sake, Ciel, have you ever _been in_ a fire?"

The young heir stared mutely across the room. Lydia cut her eyes at him and turned away. "No? Well, I have. When I first started working for my forestry organization, they didn't have the money to purchase desirable office space. We were located on the second floor of a building that had used to be a tenement. In the dead of winter, some children tried to light a fire on the first floor and ended up setting the whole hallway ablaze. I saw it catching on and blocking our path to the door. In the time it took us to run upstairs, open a window, and scream for help, the flames had already gotten to the top of the stairs. There was no time to wait for help. We had to jump. Our office manager landed wrong and broke her leg. Thank God it was only the second floor; any higher and we would have been jumping out to avoid being turned to ash, so our kin could identify our bodies and give us a proper burial. Some of the folks on the upper floors weren't so lucky." Lydia stared out the window, her eyes like glass. "The point is, Ciel, fire spreads _quickly._ It can jump across a floor or a hall in _seconds,_ and there were _hundreds_ of students in Violet Wolf House that night. If the wind had been just a little stronger, not even Sebastian could have saved everyone in time." She brought a hand up to cover her icy cobalt eyes. "My God, who knows how many could have died."

Ciel had no idea what to say, but he knew he could not say nothing. She would not accept that. His voice came out sounding small and brittle. "I didn't….mean to…."

"Do you think whatever the hell you _meant_ to do would matter in the slightest to the families of these boys when they came to claim the bodies?!" Lydia thundered, turning from the window to stab him with her gaze again. "You are thirteen years old! And you-!" she swiveled and pointed an accusing finger at Sebastian. "You are a demon! Neither of you is in an appropriate position to make value judgments regarding the lives of other people!"

"_This is my duty!_ It is my birthright!" Ciel snarled at her, possessed by a sudden and unaccountable surge of fury that stained his vision black. "And you are _not_ my parent!"

"Veritably so!" Lydia took several steps in his direction, drawing herself up to her full height. "And considering whose son you are, I don't know why I find myself caught off guard by this behavior! Risking the lives of everyone else for his own gain was _exactly_ the sort of thing Vincent would have done!"

Ciel lost his composure as he felt the breath slammed out of him by the force of her words. For several moments, he truly feared he was suffering an asthma attack. He gasped and curled his fingers and bit his tongue until it bled, willing himself to stabilize with every ounce of his control. _I will kill_ _myself if I cry._ He managed not to sacrifice this last vestige of his pride, but he had no energy left to refute her. Instead, he found himself shouting desperately, "I just wanted to help, goddammit! I just wanted to finish this-!"

"In what way have you helped?!" Lydia's eyes flashed as she sliced his arguments apart in the air. "You have put the lives of countless innocent students at risk! You have disrupted the equilibrium of this school, which will make it even more difficult to find information about Derrick Arden! You may have actually _destroyed_ evidence in the burning of Purple House, did you ever think of that? I was unable to capture my attacker because I was worried about _your_ safety, and I nearly received severe burns putting out a fire that _you_ started! How has _any_ of that helped anybody?! What is _wrong _with you?!"

"**I DON'T KNOW!"** Ciel's voice broke as he screamed, and he was left with the trailing syllables of words upon his bleeding tongue. "I don't know. I don't….know."

Lydia closed the distance between them and Ciel stared helplessly into her eyes, waiting for her to tell him exactly what was wrong with him, like a swift slap to the face. The brunette sighed and placed her hands upon his shoulders, looking as though she would cry. Where her bandaged hand touched him, Ciel twitched. "You're my little brother, Ciel. I love you. I always will. It causes me great pain to think of anyone hurting you, so I always want to protect you. But don't you think-" Lydia closed her eyes and shuddered fiercely. "Don't you think it causes me just as much pain to see you dealing so cruelly with the lives of others? I want to be proud of my little brother. I want to look at you and see someone who doesn't scare me."

The silence in the tower was deafening.

Slowly, Lydia peeled her hands off her brother and brushed past him. He heard the dull metallic beat of her shoes as she began to descend the stairs. "No matter what anyone says now, this situation is out of my hands. If this is the kind of thing you are willing to do to accomplish your goals, I cannot be a part of it. I am going down to the grounds and joining with the students helping Purple House classmates find temporary shelter. Sometime tomorrow, I will return to Sebastian's room to pack my things. Then I am going back to London to continue my investigation of Baron Kelvin and his assassins on my own."

Sebastian started forward, but stopped abruptly at the look Lydia gave him. The next moment, she had turned her head and disappeared into the winding stairwell. The harsh points of her heels wound downward slowly, like an executioner's drumbeat, until the door grated open at the bottom and rumbled shut again. Ciel stood perfectly still before the doorway, listening to her go until she was gone.

Suddenly he hated everything. The houses. The tower. This wretched school and all its students. Even her. But most of all, he hated the dark eyes he felt boring into his back; the aura of the demon behind him, damning, silently staining. Watching him. Reveling, he was sure, in the turmoil inside his heart. He ground his teeth together and whirled to face him with wild eyes. "Get out! Get out!" he shouted furiously. "Get out of here _now!_ Remove your damned smug face from my sight!"

The demon's body quavered in pain and he did not wait to be told again. He vanished as quickly as a shadow before the light, and Ciel was left alone in the tower, panting with exertion and distress. He stared out the window, flinching as he saw a tiny figure far below striding away toward the ruins of Purple House. He clenched his fists and lashed out at the dresser, knocking Edward's possessions to the ground. A moment later he hit the floor as well, sitting hard upon the steps and folding himself up tightly, staring at his kneecaps. His head felt like it was swelling, bursting open under an ungodly pressure. Secure in the knowledge that he was alone, which brought more pain than relief, he pressed his forehead to his knees and let go of the shivering, confused, fractured creature inside him.

/

"I'm sorry, everyone. I know this is utter rubbish. I can't….I just can't _focus_ right now."

"It's all right," Redmond replied to Bluewer as the frustrated Blue House prefect set down his planning notebook with a grimace of defeat. They had spent the last half hour in the swan gazebo attempting to lay out plans for the fourth of June tournament, which was quickly approaching. However, in light of the fire that had swept through Purple House just three days prior, no one seemed to have the mind or heart to concentrate. Ciel clenched his hands together tightly and gazed around the usually tranquil gazebo at the other occupants. Every single one of them looked exhausted. Classes had been cancelled for the last two days after the fire, and while most of the students seemed to see this as a break, those in charge of running the school had no such luxury. Two of the six dorm rooms in Purple House had been rendered completely uninhabitable, forcing students assigned to them to find temporary sleeping arrangements in the administrative hall, the music building, and the common rooms of the other houses. Just organizing the delivery of sufficient food, water, clothing, and other necessities to these unequipped areas had been a nightmare. Then there was the process of trying to recover school property from the wreckage, and the fact that the rest of Purple House, while not directly impacted by the flames, had still suffered plenty of damage from the smoke and heat. And of course, there was the ever-persistent rumor mill revolving around who had started the fire, and what had happened during it. Almost as intriguing as the former, there were currently several stories floating around of a student from Blue House playing an instrumental role in helping to put out the fire. This had come as a great surprise to everyone, especially Blue House. What was even more surprising, however, was the fact that none of the Sapphire Owl students had stepped forward to claim responsibility for the lauded acts, not even when encouraged by the house prefect to do so. It had quickly become a popular topic of speculation for Blue House students, who were not used to being recognized for anything apart from academics. Meanwhile, the only thing anyone in Purple House could talk about was the question of who had thrown the lantern through their window.

On that count, Ciel could barely bring himself to listen to what anyone was saying, even though he knew there was no evidence to point to him. He had not spoken to either Lydia or Sebastian since the fight in the tower yesterday. Based on his older sister's statements, however, this was the day she would be packing up and returning alone to London. She probably had not left yet- it was only nine o'clock in the morning- but the thought made Ciel's stomach twist, and he wished powerfully that this meeting would end soon so he could retire to a dark corner and be alone. He hated this damned school, and he hated London, and he especially hated the nagging voice in the back of his mind that was telling him Lydia had been right- the fire had accomplished nothing. The school was presently dangling on the edge of utter chaos. Trying to find information about Derrick Arden in this atmosphere would be futile at best, and highly suspicious at worst. Of late, he had no time to do anything but run around under orders from Clayton and Bluewer from morning until nightfall. He was exhausted as well. The young heir wanted to fall asleep and not wake up again for a long, long time.

Bluewer turned to the opposite corner of the gazebo, rubbing at the circles under his eyes. "Violet, have you arranged a new roster of your students' temporary living arrangements? We need to know where everyone is supposed to be in case another emergency breaks out."

The Purple House prefect nodded without looking up from his current drawing. Bluewer eyed him concernedly before turning away. Violet had scorched his fingers while throwing water on the flames of his burning dormitory, but that was not currently stopping him from drawing like a madman. He looked a bit demented, too, as he manically dashed off sheet after sheet depicting whatever was going on inside his mind. Most of the pictures featured flames and darkness. Cheslock was sitting beside him, for once putting in the effort to pay attention to the conversation in Violet's stead.

Redmond sighed again. "So, what are we going to do? Can we truly hold the fourth of June tournament while we have an unknown arsonist running around on campus? What if they set something else on fire while all of the guests and families are present on the grounds? Who knows how many people could be put in danger?"

"Then we've simply got to apprehend the little whelp before the tournament!" Greenhill boomed loudly, smacking his cricket bat against his meaty palm as Edward nodded behind him. "The fourth of June is _tradition,_ upheld by countless prefects before us, no matter the circumstances. We _cannot _be the weak link in Weston's chain that allows tradition to be broken!"

"I agree with Greenhill," Bluewer nodded, straightening his glasses as Clayton poured him another cup of tea. "We must uphold tradition, which means we must apprehend the culprit before the fourth of June to ensure the ceremony will not be ruined. I just wish I knew where on earth to start. With no eyewitnesses and only a broken window and a singed lantern for evidence, how can we practically accuse anyone?"

"Perhaps we just have to be in the right place," Greenhill mused, leaning forward. "The fire may have been started by the same unknown culprit who broke into Violet's room earlier. If that is the case, it would seem they are targeting Violet Wolf House. If we increase patrols in that area…."

Ciel bit the inside of his lip as the prefects continued to debate tactics. He knew there was no chance of them doing so, but he wished they would stop talking about the fire. It was making him feel sick. He kept hearing Lydia's melancholy voice in the back of his mind; _I want to look at you and see someone who doesn't scare me…._

"Hey there, Violet, what's that?" Cheslock's voice meshed with the other prefects as he leaned toward the cloaked figure beside him.

Violet made a small noise in his throat as he adjusted his drawing board. "This is….I….I don't know. It's just a person I met once a little while ago. I don't know why, but I had a dream about her the other night. We were inside Violet Wolf House, and it was on fire, and she was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear her voice over the flames. I felt like her voice was….important somehow, but I…." the dark-haired prefect slowly rubbed his eyes, smearing charcoal underneath the lids. "I'm just so tired, even when I'm asleep. I can barely think, so I can't remember…."

Ciel moved a step sideways to get a look at the picture. His feet seemed to nail themselves to the floor as a hurricane of shock swept across his mind. Staring up from the page was the exact likeness of his older sister. She was clothed in feminine dress, her bandaged hand outstretched toward the viewer. He shot a look of panic in Edward's direction, who responded with a puzzled stare. Clamping his hands together, Ciel stepped forward and forcefully cleared his throat. "Say, Violet!" he called, causing the older boy to turn toward him. "I have an idea for restoring the damaged rooms in your house. I was thinking we could-"

"Hey, wait a second," Cheslock interrupted, still staring at the picture as he patted his prefect on the shoulder. "It- It couldn't be. No way. But she…." He paused, wide-eyed. Now the whole gazebo was looking his way. "Violet….could you do something for me? Could you….draw this same person again ….same face, same body, you know….except this time, draw her hair pulled back behind her head, and….put her in a Weston College uniform. Could you do that?"

"Well….all right….I suppose," Violet acquiesced, glancing strangely at Cheslock while Ciel shouted obscenities in his mind. The other prefects were watching them interestedly as Violet turned to a fresh sheet of paper and began sketching rapidly. Ciel's entire body was stiff with panic. How could he stop them, what could he do to derail their thought process without throwing off his own cover? He could not call for Sebastian to create a diversion, not with everyone gathered here. Perhaps he could excuse himself- but by then it would be too late…. Edward was coming over to have a look, and Ciel ground his teeth and desperately pushed on. "Um, Violet, I really was hoping to speak with you about-!"

Edward's gaze fell upon the picture of Lydia. At the same time his eyes widened and he uttered a shocked _"Ah!"_, Cheslock's voice broke out in stunned recognition. "I don't fucking believe it."

"Cheslock, what is it?" Redmond asked as he, Bluewer, and Greenhill stood up and gathered around Violet. Ciel watched them as though seeing them across a great distance. It was too late. She had let them see her during the fire, and now they would see her as she truly was. It was all his fault, after all….

"I know that bloke! That's the one, the guy I was telling Bluewer about, the one who came with me into Purple House when I was looking for Lowery, and then pulled the entrance doors open!" Cheslock pointed sharply at the accurately drawn sketch of Lydia in male clothing, then glanced between the drawings in utter confusion. "But, this is…. Violet, is this how you saw him, in a _dress?_"

"Yes," the Purple House prefect nodded, frowning deeply. "When I saw her in the school hallways, she looked like _this._ I assumed she was a woman because….well, I had no evidence to the contrary. Are you sure _this_ is the person you saw?" he questioned, pointing to the male version of Lydia.

"I saw him too!" Redmond exclaimed, snatching up the sketch and staring vividly at it. "He was one of the fellows I tended to after the fire! He came out of Purple House wounded, said he'd fallen in the smoke and hurt his leg. It was a nasty cut. Midford was there as well, am I right?" The eyes of the prefects and their fags all turned toward Edward.

The Green House fag swallowed thickly. Ciel felt his eyes boring flaming holes into the other boy, willing him to lie and lie well. Edward nodded jerkily. "Yes….yes, I think I do remember him. After Redmond left, I told Harcourt I would take him back to Blue House. And so I did. I left him in the entrance hall to be assisted by his housemates while I went back for other boys."

"Well, I'm certain _I've_ never seen him before, in a uniform _or_ in a dress!" Bluewer exclaimed, staring critically between the two drawings. "Are you _sure_ he was in Sapphire Owl House?"

"According to his house crest, he was one of yours." Redmond confirmed. "But you say you haven't seen him at all….?"

"Wait a minute, I remember him! Yes, I've seen him too!" Greenhill practically shouted, thrusting his finger toward the uniformed drawing. "That is the boy who helped us pull the water barrow up the stairs and into Purple House during the fire!"

For a moment, all of the occupants of the gazebo stared at each other in shocked silence. Cheslock shook his head and ran his fingers through his wild hair. "So, just what in hell is going on here? Who is this bloke? Which house is he really in? And is 'he' actually a _girl_ in men's clothing? Or….is he really a lad who was wearing a ladies' dress for some bizarre reason when Violet saw him?" He blinked and turned to stare at his prefect. "Violet, what exactly were the circumstances of your meeting with this….person?"

The dark-eyed prefect worked his hands together and bit his lip. "It was almost….almost a month ago. It was during one of Green House's practice cricket matches, and I was walking down the hallway of the humanities building. I saw her standing in front of the display case, looking at the trophies. She started to run away when she saw me, but she stopped when I said I was a prefect. I told her women were not allowed on the grounds of Weston, but then I noticed her hands….they were perfectly shaped for one of my drawings. So I decided to sketch them before sending her away."

"_Violet,_" Bluewer scolded severely.

"_What?_" the other prefect asked. "It wasn't hurting anything. I took her into the library and set her up before my still life scene. I tried to have her remove the bandages on her right arm, but she refused. She would not tell me why."

"I saw that too, when I was wrapping his- or her- leg." Redmond interrupted. "I thought it was caused by the fire, but she said it was from a childhood injury."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Clayton murmured in the background. "So, what happened then?"

"I finished my drawing," Violet continued. "She said she wanted to be taken to Green House, so I agreed to escort her there. On the way, I asked her for her name. I believe she said it was Rachel…. However, I cannot recall a last name. But I do remember what she wanted at Green House. She wanted to see _him._" The Purple House prefect pointed at Edward, who suddenly looked like a deer caught in the open. "I located Midford for her and left them. I instructed him to escort her to the gates and make sure she left the grounds. And that was the last time I laid eyes on her, in any kind of clothing. I never expected to see her again…."

Everyone in the gazebo shifted their heads to look at Edward. "Well, Midford?" Bluewer asked, straightening his spectacles.

Edward braced his hands behind his back and stood up straight. For a moment, Ciel wildly considered throwing the nearest vase at him if he began to tell the truth. He could see flickers of indecision running across the other boy's face. "I….well….it happened that day….as Violet said. Rachel was indeed a person I had met a few times outside of Weston, usually at social gatherings and soirees. I always saw her dressed as a woman. I believe she held a certain….interest in me." The Green House fag blushed deeply, and for once Ciel did not mind his extremely hesitant views on intimacy. It made his story more believable. "However, when I realized she had snuck into Weston improperly, I explained to her the reasons for our school-wide ban on women, and escorted her out the gates. There was a carriage waiting to pick her up, and she said it would take her back to London. I have not seen her since that day- well, I suppose I have…..on the night of the fire. But her clothes were different and her voice was different, and I was utterly distracted by the chaos and distress all around us, and….I must admit, I did not recognize her. A woman dressing up as a man is such a scandalous notion, the thought just never crossed my mind."

"I think so as well," Bluewer declared as Ciel mentally vowed to be more patient with Edward and his constant anxiety regarding the Phantomhive heir's arrangement with his younger sister, Elizabeth. "However, judging from the plethora of evidence, I seems that is exactly what she has done. But _why?_ For what purpose would a woman don male clothing and pose as a student of this institution? And how the blazes has she managed to get away with it for almost a _month?_"

Greenhill's shoulders bristled as he paced raptly between two pillars of the gazebo. "Clearly, she came here with some nefarious intent. All of the misfortunes and strange incidents we've suffered happened after her arrival. Without a doubt, I believe we have our culprit in the arsonist attack on Purple House. Now we just need to-"

"Wait a moment, please!" Ciel interrupted strongly, pulling himself up as tall as he could to square off against Greenhill. "I don't pretend to be an expert on these incidents- I don't believe I've even met this person- but think about what you're saying. Three of you- Cheslock, Redmond, and Greenhill- claim to have witnessed this girl helping to put out the fire at Purple House. In light of these actions, leveling the accusation of arson against her does not make sense. Why would anyone start a fire, and then risk their life- and their cover- helping to extinguish it?"

The Prefect Four glanced at each other, anxiety and confusion reflected in their eyes. Redmond sighed. "You're right on that count, Phantomhive. The only reason most of us have seen this woman is because she came out of hiding to assist Purple House in its time of need. It would be superfluous to automatically assume she is the culprit behind these disturbing incidents. However, that does not negate the fact that we must find her as soon as possible." He waved Violet's drawings above his head. "We know what she looks like, both as a lady and a gentleman. I say we split into four groups and track her down within the school. She won't expect us to be on to her. We have the element of surprise on our side. We can take her to the administrative building for questioning. I want to know what on earth she is doing here. Once we know that, we might be able to solve many other mysteries, such as why Violet's possessions were stolen and-"

"Um- pardon me, Redmond? I'm sorry to speak out of turn, but I- I just thought you should know something," A timid voice called softly from behind the Red House prefect. The occupants of the gazebo turned to acknowledge the diminutive figure of Harcourt. "I met this woman too, when I came to report to Redmond as he was bandaging her leg, right after she had come out of the building. I don't think I said more than a few words to her, and I didn't notice anything odd at the time….but now that you mention things being stolen from Purple House, I recall she had a rather large key in her hand. I noticed it when I- when I moved to help her stand up…."

Harcourt trailed off, looking like he might flee in terror at the apocalyptic expression that appeared suddenly on Greenhill's face. Ciel stared at him in concern, then glanced around at the other prefects. It was exactly like the first time he had spoken Derrick Arden's name in their presence. For just a moment, each of them lost control and revealed a baffling pulse of raw emotion. Bluewer looked as though he had earned a failing mark on an exam. Violet's mouth trembled and he appeared utterly terrified. Redmond seized Harcourt's shoulder and pulled him away from Greenhill, who suddenly had a glint in his eye that made Ciel's heart accelerate unnaturally. Once again, the silence was deafening.

"She had a key." Greenhill repeated in a strange façade of calm. "She had a key, did she? A large one? What did it look like? What was it made of?"

Harcourt clutched his hands together and trembled. "It was….it was a large brass key. Somewhat old, but…. But it looked different from regular keys….other than a thin patina, its surface was completely blank. There was no number or maker's mark or anything, so I was interested in it and asked her….but she said it was hers, and I didn't think…."

Greenhill swore and Harcourt jumped out of his skin and cowered behind Redmond. Cheslock tossed a dubious look in the Green House prefect's direction. "Calm down, mate, it can't be anything that-"

"We're going to find her," Greenhill declared, returning to his chair and snatching up his cricket bat. "We're going _now._ Split up according to house. Two groups take the dormitories, two take the academic buildings. Don't leave any corner unsearched, and do _not_ let chivalry hinder you. Knock her out and drag her to the administrative building by the hair if you have to!"

"Greenhill…." Edward started as the P4 headed toward the gazebo steps, trading looks of high anxiety.

Cheslock growled and suddenly darted in front of the prefects. "Listen here, you lot!" he barked loudly. "I agree we need to find this girl and figure out what she's doing here. But if anybody hurts her, I'll….I'll serve a cricket ball right into your face! You get it? I owe her for the fire, and you lot do too. So don't forget it!"

There was a moment of silence while the prefects looked shocked by his declaration. Then Greenhill rounded on Violet, demanding roughly, "Did you hear him, Violet?! What are you going to do?"

Ciel saw his opportunity while everyone was looking away from him. He broke into a jog to catch up with Clayton as the taller fag began to descend the steps after the prefects. Meanwhile Violet, still looking terrified, stood rigidly still before walking slowly toward Cheslock. The younger boy gritted his teeth as he prepared for the worst, but Violet said nothing. He merely placed himself at Cheslock's side and linked arms with him, his wide eyes gazing into the other's stolid face.

Greenhill swore again. "Dammit, Violet-!"

Ciel chose that moment to pause for just a second on the stairs, enough time for Clayton to collide sharply with him. The young heir allowed his body to fall into the grass, then faked a mask of pain and clutched his ankle. Clayton started in surprise as the others' attention was diverted. "Phantomhive! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"_We don't have time for all this messing around!_" Greenhill thundered, and Ciel lifted his head.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "It seems I've hurt my ankle, but please don't worry about me. I'll be all right, but I don't want to slow you down. If it's really so important to find this girl, please go on without me."

"Are you sure?" Clayton asked, hovering in anxiety. "I could stay and help you back to the dormitory-"

"No, no," Ciel waved him off, faking a look of brave determination. "Our school is in trouble, and right now you need to support your prefect. Please go!"

The other boys nodded and hurried after Greenhill as he raced away from the swan gazebo. Edward glanced back helplessly several times as they went. The young heir waited until they had split up and disappeared before rolling over and scrambling behind the border of the gazebo. His fingers spasmed as he reached up to rip off his eye patch. He kept seeing the apocalyptic look that had taken over Greenhill's face when Harcourt had told of the key. Ciel did not know that Lydia had a key, or why this information had caused the prefects to react as though it were a bomb. However, he realized they had finally awoken the slumbering dragon at this school, and there would be no lulling it back to sleep. Now he had to make sure Lydia was not consumed by the repercussions of his actions. If he couldn't even do this much right, then….he would lose her permanently.

Ciel felt his contract eye blaze bright as he opened it to the light of day. Momentarily blinded, he concentrated strongly and called through the seal, _"Sebastian! Come!"_


	37. Atop the Sky

**Hi guys! I'm back. Summer work has not left much time for writing, but I've got a little break ahead of me, so hopefully I can get some more chapters out this month. I'm probably late to the party, but I just found out that they're making a new Kuroshitsuji anime, one that follows the plot of the manga. SO EXCITING! News like this just warms my little fan heart. I hope an intriguing new chapter will warm yours. :)**

The day had only just begun, and already the morning was worn thin by a cover of grey clouds which seemed to scour the sky of any brightness. Lydia trudged slowly toward the stone body of Sapphire Owl House, thinking to herself that while she hadn't exactly wanted to come to Weston College in the first place, she never could have imagined leaving it like this. Yet in the face of what Ciel had done, remaining here would be tantamount to condoning his methods, and that was something she could not do. Last night she had dreamed again about the fire which had overtaken the tenement she had once worked in. The screams of the people trapped on the higher floors were as fresh and raw as those of the schoolboys from just a few days ago. No, she could never condone any justification which purposely inflicted that kind of horror onto human beings. Ciel was her brother, but if he was going to do these kinds of things, she had to leave. She would seek to solve this complex case on her own.

Perhaps, Lydia mused wearily as she began to climb the steps of Blue House, perhaps part of the problem was that Ciel had almost no experience with receiving consequences for anything he did. As the only male, legitimate heir of the illustrious Phantomhive name, he had always led a pampered life, while Lydia had been treated as more of a nursemaid than an actual member of the family. While Rachel was alive, their mother had at least tried to raise Ciel practically while at the same time attempting to hold onto her illegitimate daughter, who became more and more alienated as she grew older and the demon dug its claws further into her heart. Really, it was a miracle her mother had not suffered a nervous breakdown in the midst of all that awfulness, Lydia figured humorlessly. But after her death, there had been no one to direct the siblings, to teach them wrong from right, only a demon with a heart full of darkness. It was no wonder her brother behaved the way he did.

And perhaps that was the reason-

There was something going on in the courtyard. Lydia paused in her musings and turned her head toward the side of the building, where a flurry of commotion was taking place. She couldn't tell exactly what was happening, but she could see the top of the Herman Greenhill's head moving rapidly above the crowd. He seemed to be questioning Sapphire Owl students about something. What business did Green Lion have with Sapphire Owl so early in the morning, Lydia wondered as she stepped hesitantly toward the gathering of students. Surely there hadn't been another incident-?

From the peripheral of her vision, another blur of motion caught her eye. Lydia turned toward Sapphire Owl's main steps and nearly shouted in shock, the words cramming painfully in her throat. Atop the steps stood a tall, black figure which she knew too well. It was angled downward, and though she still could not discern any signs of a face, she was sure it was looking directly at her. Once again it slowly raised an arm, a hand, a finger. The specter beckoned to her.

Heart pounding like a steam pump, Lydia glanced hurriedly to either side. Either she was the only one who could see it, or everyone else was too distracted by the scene Greenhill was making, his voice rising in volume and urgency. However, his presence suddenly seemed less important to Lydia. She drew her school robe's hood over her head and quickly began to ascend the steps, passing directly over Greenhill as she heard him thunder something about "a threat to Weston's security!" The spectral figure ghosted backward as she approached, although it did not seem to be moving. It drifted right through the dormitory's giant entrance doors, and Lydia shoved them open and rushed in after it. She turned in a full circle before she spotted it already at the top of the stairwell, leaning over the edge as if waiting for her. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Lydia strode briskly up the steps, forcing herself not to run. When she reached the top, she followed the specter down several hallways, surrounded by students who apparently noticed nothing strange. The specter was like dark fog, melting out of sight when she approached and reappearing further away, still beckoning with that skeletal finger. It wanted her to keep following. Lydia wished Sebastian would walk by so she could surreptitiously alert him to the situation, but the demon was strangely absent from the halls of his house dormitory.

Eventually, the specter led her into the library. Lydia was almost afraid to breathe as she stepped carefully into its hushed chambers, trying to look as though she were doing nothing more suspicious than browsing esoteric knowledge, as were the groups of Sapphire Owl students crowding the tables even at this early hour. She found it highly unnerving that no one else appeared to see the towering shadow, even as they strolled within inches of it. It led her into the maze of bookshelves in the center of the room, through periodicals and texts, biographies and classics, until she found herself amidst a series of giant bookcases packed with dense, antiquated tomes. The specter stopped, and Lydia was able to approach it directly, trembling with uncertainty. The closer she came, the darker and more imposing it seemed, and she leaped back a few steps when it unexpectedly raised its thin finger and laid it upon the spine of one of the books.

It was a full-fledged Latin dictionary.

Lydia started again, hesitating for a long moment before reaching out to take the book from the shelf. As she did, her hand brushed against the ridge of the specter's finger, and she was amazed to find that it was solid, very cold, and heavy as a stone. Lydia swallowed and indicated to the weighty book in her hands. "Is this for the other book I took from Violet Wolf House? _Summa Theologica_?"

The specter nodded, and Lydia tucked the book in close to her chest. It seemed ridiculous to be asking this question to a menacing shadow of indeterminate origins, but as she knew of no one else to ask, she softly inquired, "Would you be able to tell me, um, what exactly it is I'm looking for in that book? It's got thousands of pages, and I don't know which ones…."

The young girl trailed off as the specter raised its hand again. It pointed its long, cold finger inexplicably toward itself. Lydia glanced at the dictionary and then back at the silent figure. "What….what exactly does that-"

"ALL OF YOU, CLEAR OUT!" Lydia gasped as a sudden roar ripped through the library, precipitated by the thunderous banging of doors. She poked her head around the corner and observed Herman Greenhill glaring furiously around the library as Blue House students scrambled to follow his orders. Thinking perhaps the building was on fire, Lydia nearly moved toward the prefect herself. An iron force upon her shoulder held her in place, and she turned her head to see several pale, spindly fingers squeezing her shoulderblade. From behind the door, Edward hurried in after Greenhill, looking pale and panicked. Something was very wrong, and if so, why weren't the leaders of Blue House doing the intervening?

"Midford, you take the pathway on the left!" Greenhill snarled, striding toward the bookcases with his cricket bat clenched in his fist. "I'll get the right. She definitely came in here, so _do not_ lose her!"

Lydia veins were suddenly made of icy pinpricks. Greenhill had said _she._ There were no women in here, no servants or housemothers, and it seemed impossible he would go after one of them with such a vengeance. No, he meant _her._ He knew. Somehow, the prefects had found her out.

Lydia spun away from his advancing figure and realized the specter had left her side. It was down at the end of the row of bookshelves, beckoning to her once again. She was split by a moment of indecision before slinging the dictionary under her arm and fleeing toward the shadow, barely breathing. It led her down several narrow aisles before it made a sudden turn and disappeared. Trying to follow it, Lydia rounded the corner and collided with a very human body. The frantic, shaded eyes of Gregory Violet stared into hers as his slender hands closed around her arms. "You! Give me my books back!"

Lydia had moved to shove him off, but the urgency in his whispered voice startled her into stillness. She pulled them both out of sight as Greenhill thundered by several yards away, and hissed, "What the bloody hell are you up to with them?!"

Violet's fingers were shaking. He was obviously terrified, but desperation forced him to grit his teeth, casting a glance toward the area Greenhill was rampaging through. "Return my books, and give back the key you stole from my belongings! If you don't, I'll call out to him. I'll let him know exactly where you are, and then you'll-!"

"Where is Derrick Arden?" Lydia cut across his threats in a brusque whisper, staring directly into his eyes. His pupils dilated, and she could see the tremor of his breath seizing up in his chest. He suddenly looked ten times more terrified than before. He actually tried to back away, but this time she seized him and held him in place. "I've seen your drawing in the back of _The Tell-Tale Heart._ I saw the painting in your room. I know he and his friends are not in Purple House, even though you claim they are. _What_ _happened to them at this school?_ If you tell me that, I will return your possessions."

Violet whimpered, tugging uselessly against her grip on his cloak. "N-n-noooo….no, please," he sputtered, seemingly speaking more to himself than to her. "Please, don't….don't let this be happening…."

"What are you-" Lydia cut short suddenly, her ears detecting a sudden lack of background noise in the room. Greenhill had stopped rampaging and barking orders to Edward. With all the other students ejected from the library, the room was menacingly silent. Perhaps he had heard their whispers. Perhaps he was listening for them to give away their position. Lydia did not know why, but something in Greenhill's face, his eyes, made her certain that stepping out and trying to explain herself calmly was not the right course of action. Violet was barely breathing, still stunned into silence, and Lydia wondered whether she ought to try to haul him off with her or lose him and escape alone. She could easily overpower him in a fight, but a fight would draw everyone's attention…. Glancing over Violet's shoulder, Lydia's breath hitched as she observed the sudden reappearance of the spectral figure. Its hand was raised, but now it was not beckoning. It was pointing. It was pointing at something behind her, above her head.

Lydia turned to look just as the towering bookcase began to fall.

Violet screamed as the world they were standing in tilted. The top of the heavy bookcase fell like a log, slamming the one on the opposite side and trapping them within a triangle of chaos. Lydia was bludgeoned by falling books, her head struck repeatedly before she threw up her right arm to ward them off. The other bookcase gave way as Violet collapsed to the floor. A sickening snap told her she had less than three seconds to vanish before the falling behemoth crushed her. Lydia gave up her hold on the dictionary to lunge at Violet, seizing him around the waist and reaching through blind air to find her bandaged arm. She swore the thunderous crash from the bookcase's impact followed them through the blurry, illuminated world, to the first place to cross Lydia's mind. They landed on a hard surface, red brick warmed by the sun. The brunette felt wind in her hair and opened her eyes to see the terraced roof of the administration building. Force of habit compelled her to stumble to her feet as she re-covered her arm, glancing frantically in every direction. The rooftop was empty.

Violet was still cowering on the ground beside her, expecting to be hit by a bookcase at any second. When it did not happen, the cloaked prefect slowly opened his eyes, cried out in shock, and closed them again. He opened and closed his eyes three times, as if expecting to find a different scene when he looked again. Lydia bit her lip in frightened frustration. It might be best to quickly leap away before he noticed her, but she doubted he was in a proper state of mind to get down on his own. Her suspicions were confirmed when he began to hyperventilate, pulling his hood low to cover his panicked face.

"You're not going mad," she told him softly, eliciting a choked cry as a pair of wide eyes stared up at her.

"Are you- did you? How….up here?" he whispered inarticulately.

Lydia crossed her arms and glanced at the building below them. "How did Greenhill find out about me?"

She waited, then repeated the question when the shivering prefect did not speak. "How did Greenhill know? And how many did he tell?"

Violet seemed to decide it was not a good idea to refuse someone who had just pulled him through space and time. "I….I drew a picture. Of you, the way I saw you before. Cheslock recognized it and a-asked me to draw you in a Weston uniform. Then we knew. All the prefects and their fags." The skittish boy flinched backward when Lydia took a step toward him.

"I will not hurt you," she reassured soothingly. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have just let the bookcase do it for me. I only want to know…." The brunette reached into her suit pocket and removed the slender volume she had stolen from Violet's room. He made an instinctive move toward it, but stopped when she opened the last page and showed the grotesque drawing. "….Why did you draw this?"

The prefect trembled and shrank back from her. He looked like he wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. He burrowed into his cloak and mutely shook his head, his large, miserable eyes fixed on the paper in her hand.

Lydia furrowed her brow, deciding to try to make a connection with him. "I've seen him too," she confessed, holding out the picture of Derrick Arden. "I've seen him like _this._ It's not how he appears in his school pictures, smiling like a normal student….but since I came here, I've only ever seen him the way you draw him, as some sort of ghoulish creature. He always comes at night." Lydia tilted her head and stared directly at Violet. "Why is that?"

"_What are you?!_" Violet burst suddenly from his hood, the shadows rising prominently on his face. "How do you know- how _could_ you? Are you a human, or- something else?" His eyes flew to her bandaged arm as if she might suddenly latch it around his throat. A terrible, heavy foreboding settled over his eyes. "Have you come to punish me?"

Lydia winced at his traumatized expression. "Violet, I just said I don't want to hurt you. I can help you. But you must tell me where Derrick Arden and his friends are, all right? Finding them is the reason-"

"Finding them won't help anyone! It's too late! It was always too late!" the hooded prefect shrieked, seeming to lose his control entirely as he backed toward the edge of the roof. Lydia leaped forward and seized him, forcing him away from the precipice just as another sound registered in her ears. A horrible grating noise from below, moving quickly up the side of the building….she only just had time to grasp the top of Violet's hood and yank it down over his face so he could not see the figure leaping into view. Sebastian was at her side in an instant, his claws extended and eyes a demonic red. She signaled frantically for him to be silent; Sebastian was currently the housemaster of Sapphire Owl, but it was nevertheless possible that Violet had heard his voice before. They could not let Sebastian's disguise be compromised as well.

The demon wrapped his arms around her, checking her vital points for injuries. Then he indicated questioningly toward the squirming prefect in her arms. Lydia sighed and glanced toward the deserted remains of Violet Wolf House. There was nothing for it. Even if he had been willing, Violet was not in a calm enough mental state to be asked to provide information. They would return him to the school grounds and regroup with Ciel as quickly as possible. Lydia jerked her head toward their destination, then signaled for the demon to step back while she awkwardly eased the bandages off her arm.

This time she stayed a little longer in the light, and when they re-emerged on the other side, Violet seemed to have calmed. He was limp in her arms as she lowered him to the charred grass of his dormitory's lawn. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Sebastian peering out from behind a tree. He pointed across the grounds to the Swan Gazebo, and she nodded to show she understood the message. Gently, she knelt down and lifted the hood from Violet's head. "I'm sorry I frightened you," she murmured quietly, replacing _The Tell-Tale Heart_ inside her pocket and stepping back. "I will speak with you another time."

As she began to stride away, she heard the prefect stagger weakly to his feet. "Wait! Please come back! You can't look for him! Please-!"

Gritting her teeth in determination, Lydia turned her wrist to open the bandages. His sorrowful cries pursued her to the shore of the lightning world.

/

"We need a new plan of action. _Now._"

The faces around Sebastian's desk were grave and ashen. The three conspirators had barricaded themselves inside the demon's private room while the rest of the campus ran about in disarray, most of it caused by Greenhill as he continued his relentless search to find Lydia. Ciel and his sister were currently seated on opposite ends of Sebastian's bed, uncertainty thick in the air between them. They had not spoken since their row in the tower, yet the circumstances necessitating their cooperation were now too urgent to ignore. The demon was perched on the surface of his desk, his eyes still harboring an unsettling gleam. Ciel had just explained everything that had taken place in the gazebo, up to the point where he had sent Sebastian to protect Lydia. The demon had raced around campus, been alerted to some commotion in Blue House's library, and arrived to find Edward and Cheslock frantically digging through the ruins of a row of collapsed bookcases. He had been able to determine quickly that the ones they sought were not there, then continued his search around campus until he heard Lydia's voice speaking faintly from above him. The demon was tense, staring between his two masters with shadowed eyes. It seemed everyone had shadowed eyes nowadays, Lydia thought vaguely. It made it difficult to determine where their hearts were.

"You two need to continue your investigation here. There's no way we can let it go, not after what we've seen today. Your disguises are still intact, so you should be all right." The young girl rubbed her forehead painfully, feeling a bruise rising where a large book had struck her. "I'm scrapped, though. Completely bungled. I tried hiding out of sight, and it didn't work. I tried hiding in plain sight, and now everyone is on the lookout for my face. There's nothing for it. I'm going to have to leave Weston." Lydia tried to keep the dark irony out of her voice, seeing as leaving Weston was what she had been doing even before her disguise had been so suddenly torn from her.

"Master, you cannot go out there without protection!" Sebastian exclaimed, while Ciel nodded quietly. "Those people who attacked you at the manor and in London are still at large."

"Yes, but their leader might also return here once more to try to find me." Lydia glanced out the window toward the distant gates. "At the end of the day, no place can really be said to be 'safe' anymore. Someone tried to crush me with a giant bookcase just now, only a floor below us. We will not be safe until we settle these cases."

"Where would you go?" Ciel asked, taking the opportunity to remove his eyepatch and gaze at her with both eyes.

Lydia closed her eyes and thought. "I reckon I ought to move around quite a bit, so anyone following me won't be able to pin me down in one location. I can stay a few hours in Camden Town, then move into greater London, then go to the townhouse. Perhaps I could even leap back to the manor and spend the nights there. No one else will be present, so…."

"I do not think you ought to stay away at night," Sebastian interjected firmly. "Nighttime is when you are most vulnerable to attack. To be safe, master should continue to stay with me."

"But-"

"You could appear directly into this room after the final bell has tolled," the demon persisted, leaning toward her. "I will make sure I am alone and available to greet you. I will keep watch over you while you sleep. In the mornings, you could leap back to London before Weston's day begins. It would seem to all as though you had vanished from this school. Meanwhile, each night we would be able to clandestinely verify that you are still….alive."

There was a parturient silence in the room at this statement. Lydia felt her head begin to ache with a vengeance, and she knew that she must not be unreasonable at this point. Even though she was displeased with him, Lydia knew without a doubt that Sebastian would guard her through the night as he said. Beside her, Ciel nodded, his sharp eyes flickering toward the demon in displeasure. "It's not ideal, but I agree it is the safest option available. There is no longer any way for you to stay at Weston during the day. While you are in London, Sebastian and I will focus on preparing for the Fourth of June. If I can secure a seat at the midnight tea party, we will finally be able to unravel this façade of a school. And I _will _secure a seat."

Lydia gazed at her little brother, his heeled shoes dangling far off the floor. His cobalt eyes glinted like steel, and he twisted the Phantomhive ring painfully around his thumb. She remembered the order she had given to Sebastian. Wrapping her arms around herself, she intoned quietly, "You mustn't hurt anyone to win, Ciel."

The young heir snapped his eyes up to meet hers. "I-! That was not my plan!" he protested defensively, stiffening like an angry cat. There was another long, rolling silence in the room before Sebastian rose and briefly touched her shoulder.

"Master, I must report to the administrative building to discuss this latest disturbance with the other housemasters. I shall wait for your arrival here tonight, so please…." His eyes seemed to bloom a darker red as he stared down at her before striding over to his closet and ducking inside.

Lydia stood, feeling the weight of the day's events press down upon her shoulders. It was hardly past noon, but she already felt as though she wanted to curl up in the bed and sleep for weeks. That would have to wait, though. Her purpose had been redirected, and now she had to step into the world once more. She took the satchel Sebastian offered her, a change of clothes packed inside, and began to clumsily unwind the bandages upon her arm. "I understand. Please let Edward know I am all right." The young girl bit her lip and paused for a moment, afflicted by a rush of memories and emotions that made her feel like a stranger to herself. She heard an intake of breath behind her, but her fingers broke the gauze and she closed her eyes and vanished before her brother's voice could reach her.


	38. The Tell-Tale Heart

Lydia opened the door to her longtime home as quietly as possible, staring around the familiar space while listening intently. She had assumed that Aberlaine would be at the townhouse with Madame Red and the servants, but Tanaka had informed her that he had returned to his own home to do a bit of domestic upkeep. Lydia was hoping that 'upkeep' did not include cooking anything, or their home would surely take more damage than maintenance. Even so, the young girl broke into a spontaneous smile when she heard the voices of her father and their neighbor, Thoms Weatherstaff, emanating from the kitchen area. Hanging her cloak on a hook, Lydia padded softly down the hall and poked her head into the doorway. "Hello, father."

Fred Aberlaine knocked over his mug in surprise as the two men turned toward her. They had a small fire burning in the grate, and the windows were thrown open to release the smoke and let the afternoon light stream in. Her father's face lit up like the sun as he registered his daughter's presence, and he bounded from the table and wrapped her in a strong embrace. She could hear Thoms chuckling good-humoredly as the pair of them teetered off-balance under the alcove. Aberlaine finally released her and gripped her shoulders, looking her up and down before bursting into laughter. "I say, Lydia, what a sight you are!"

The brunette snorted and tapped the crest on her Weston College uniform. "I haven't had time to change yet, that's all. Anyway, this suit's been good enough for the lads these past few weeks."

"I cannot believe not one single person figured out you were a lady for so long," Aberlaine shook his head in bemusement. "Those boys are supposed to be the brightest youth of England!"

"So they say," Lydia laughed, feeling her father's good humor inject some energy back into her veins. The past few days had found her moving about London so much that even when she returned to Sebastian's room at Weston to sleep, she dreamed of movement, running to catch a train, sailing on a barge, riding in a carriage down the rickety cobblestone lanes of the city. She knew she had to keep on moving toward her goal, moving to throw her pursuers off her trail. Even now, she knew she could not stay long in her own home.

" 'Ow goes it wi' you, young liddy?" Thoms asked while rising and pulling out a chair for her. Lydia sat down gratefully and noted the sugary smell of cobbler from somewhere nearby. Thoms' wife must have sent over a treat.

"Not so well, to be honest," Lydia bit her lip and stared at the shreds of wood rolling from Thoms' hands as he whittled a strip of cedar. "I actually came here hoping for a bit of fatherly advice. And some neighborly advice wouldn't be amiss either, I'd wager."

"What is it? Have you seen the assassins again?" Aberlaine sat down and looked at her intently, his reddish bangs framing his youthful face. Lydia moved her fingers over the gritty kitchen table as she silently rehearsed the list of thing he did and did not know. She had informed her father by telephone of the most recent events in her life, including taking on a male disguise, encountering the assassin's leader, helping to extinguish an arson fire, and subsequently being found out and hunted by the prefects. She had not, however, mentioned her disturbingly life-like night visions of the ghoul-creature resembling Derrick Arden, or of the shadow specter which seemed to follow her everywhere, even throughout London. She did not know how to explain these things to her father in a way that he could understand, being so far removed from them. Furthermore, she had not mentioned that the arsonist responsible for Violet Wolf House's immolation was her own brother. This Aberlaine would understand all too well, and even though she knew how horrible Ciel's actions had been, she also knew that getting him in trouble with the law would make it nearly impossible for them to find the missing students at Weston. Sensing the men's eyes upon her, Lydia emerged from her memories and returned to the matters at hand.

"No, I haven't seen them, which is actually the problem. I was counting on confronting them again. I had a plan. I've been moving around to make sure they cannot corner me, and I was going to wait until they made an attempt on me in an open place, leap to somewhere nearby, and keep my eye on them to see where they went after they got tired of searching for me. If I could separate one of them from the group, I might have even considered attempting a capture. But so far, I have not seen any of them….at all." Lydia huffed in frustration. "I mean, technically speaking, I don't know if I've seen them or not. I've only ever seen the face of their leader, so I suppose I might have encountered the others without knowing it. But even if I have, they've made no aggressive actions against me. I haven't been attacked or stalked or even threatened by anyone." The young girl shook her head ruefully. "Is it bad that I find that strange?"

Aberlaine and Thoms looked at each other seriously. Thoms got up to close the window while her father leaned toward her. "Perhaps it is strange, although I must say I prefer it that way," the inspector confessed grimly. "It's not the only strange thing, though. My investigative team and I have followed up on the information you provided about Baron Kelvin and the workhouse he founded. It's been deserted for quite a few years now, but we…." He shook his head, frowning deeply. "So far, we've been able to find no records indicating where the children who lived there were sent after Renbourne Workhouse was closed."

"They wouldn't have just thrown them back onto the street, would they?" Lydia asked worriedly.

"It's highly unlikely," her father replied. "Something like that would have created a fuss with the newspapers and the local Churches. Bad publicity for everyone involved. And yet we've found no sign of such. Usually when a charitable institution loses its aristocratic patron, it either finds a new one or transfers its charges to another institution. There are always records." Aberlaine glanced darkly into the fire. "Only this time, there aren't. As to Kelvin's whereabouts, it seems he vanished from all of his social circles around the time his wife left him. He seemed to have been seeing a doctor quite regularly before that, and soon afterward he sold his home in London and moved away into apparent oblivion. Again, this is another instance where the records which ought to be present are very blatantly missing. I don't believe we can chalk this up to careless municipal agencies losing their files. The precision with which this information has vanished suggests premeditated deliberation."

Lydia thought of the way the files for the missing students had been removed from Weston's records hall. Whether the two cases were related or not, it all pointed toward the same activity- someone covering their tracks, trying to bury the past. And whatever they were trying to bury was the thing she needed to see.

Thoms sat down again with a husky _hmph_ and drained his mug. "I don' suppose I kin be much use to ye 'ere, mates. I'm only an 'umble carriage driver, not some great scientist or ace inspec'ter. I dunno nothin' 'bout missin' orphans or missin' gents, that's sure. But I do 'ear things now an' agin whilst I'm plyin' my trade, an' a couple days ago there was somethin' I'd a mind to tell ye I 'eard. I reckon t'was concernin' ye." Thoms pointed at Lydia with a calloused finger. "I've driven 'bout some strange folk in my time, but this day I 'ad a mighty strange 'un step into my cabby. Young feller, looked like he 'ad some kinda skin trouble. Kept talkin' to 'imself too, like there were 'nother with 'im. Spooked me right well, I tell ye. He tol' me to jes' drive 'round London while he looked out the window. Seemed like he was spottin' fer someone. I finally asked 'im who t'was, an' he said, "_We want to find a woman with a_ _bandaged arm._" An' then he said somethin' 'bout '_Goethe_' or summat. Hit me right away, that did. Yer the only one I knows like that in the world, but I figured on it a moment an' I said to myself, "Now Thoms, this lad seems mighty dodgy. Best to not go flappin' yer gums 'bout Miss Lydia." So I said nothin' to 'im, an' I let 'im off near the fairgrounds when he was through lookin'."

Lydia sat still at the table as Aberaline's face hardened in concern. A strange person driving about London, searching for a woman with a bandaged arm. One of the assassins? It seemed almost certain. Were they on her trail after all, and simply had yet to catch up? Lydia's gaze turned worriedly to the window. "If that's the case, I suppose I mustn't stay here too much longer. I ought to leap back to the townhouse and hide there for a few hours. I thank you greatly for your vigilance, Thoms."

"Before you leave, there is something I've ordered for you from Germany. It's just recently arrived." Aberlaine stood up and strode into his study, returning a moment later with a parchment-wrapped item. Lydia worked through the papers to find a heavy, gleaming revolver, accompanied by an adjustable holster and two cases of bullets. Her eyes widened as she breathed in a tangled mixture of emotions. She had always known her father would present her with a gun of her own one day. She had grown up with them in the house as part of Aberlaine's profession, and he had seen to it that she knew how to assemble, clean, load, and fire a variety of models by the time she was fifteen. In a way, it almost made her proud, like coming-of-age provision. However, the fact that her father thought this particular provision was necessary at this time caused her heart to roll like thunder in her chest. Aberlaine patted her firmly on the back, and in his eyes she saw her complex feelings mirrored back at her. "I hope the moment never comes when you have no choice," he murmured lowly while Thoms gazed at them solemnly. "It's a terrible moment to face. But hoping against it won't stop it from coming, so you must be ready. You have the right to be alive. Do not let anyone take that from you."

Lydia stood and hugged her father again, her throat burning like a frightened child, like a tired soldier. She smiled up at him, the blueness in her mother's eyes crinkling like rippled water. "You are brave," Aberlaine told her, "and you are good. You make me proud. I wish I could protect you forever, but I'm not a man who lives in dreams. Your life has always been in your hands."

Lydia squeezed her bandaged fingers around the handle of the gun and nodded.

/

"Master, I can tell you are not sleeping."

Lydia grumbled to herself and burrowed her head underneath the covers of Sebastian's bed. The demon fell silent for several minutes, and she surmised that he planned to ignore her current sleepless state. A moment later, the covers were lifted from the bottom and Sebastian joined her underneath them, lying boldly by her side. "What is the matter?"

"It's nothing," the young girl muttered, which could not have been further from the truth. Lately it seemed like the world was brim-full of worries, all conspiring to keep her from a good night's sleep. But listing and discussing them would only delay her entry into slumber. "It's just the summer heat. I find it difficult to sleep when the air is so warm."

"I can ease that for you," Sebastian offered quietly, sliding his hands up the covers and bringing them to rest upon her cheek and collarbone. His skin, as usual, was cool and unaffected by the surrounding room's temperature. Lydia sighed and turned her face into the pillow as the demon moved closer, cooling his inner spirit with the refreshment of her soul. She had fallen nearer to sleep when she heard Sebastian's voice speaking quietly from the waking world. With great effort, she pulled herself back to hear him say, "The fire was not my fault, master."

Lydia raised her eyebrow as the demon donned a face of sincerity. "I did not know your brother's plan before he ordered me to take him to the grounds of Violet Wolf House after the final bell. Even if I had known, I have no power to disobey him. It was he who threw the lantern, not I." Sebastian traced his fingers in a gentle pattern across her shoulder blade. "Surely I do not deserve to be vilified for something I had no part in?"

Lydia scowled at him, but she did not remove his hands. "You _would _have thrown the lantern, even if you didn't have to."

"Not if I thought it would bring my master distress," Sebastian contended firmly. "You and I have an intrinsic bond. I am dedicated to shape myself upon the core of who you are, so I can honor that bond."

Lydia smiled into her pillow, then tiredly shifted her head and laid her palm upon Sebastian's shoulder. The curve of her mouth was affectionate and tragic. "If you were anyone at all- anyone other than a demon," she whispered, "I would ask you if you really meant that. And I'd hope you would say _yes._"

This time, the silence lasted until she fell asleep, unnaturally piercing fingers brushing through her hair and trailing off into nothingness.

/

Several days later, Lydia gazed mournfully over the expanse of Weston College from her rooftop vantage point, considering its angles and edges. The final bell had just tolled, and the last of the students had vanished into their dormitories (or, in the case of Purple House, the various buildings which they were currently inhabiting.) She had been keeping an eye on the school and its students for the last few hours while she meditated and waited for the bell to give her leave to return to Sebastian's room. She did not know most of Weston's students, but those she did know drew special notice as she watched them go about their lives. Soma and Edward ran to and fro from the cricket field while carrying equipment, no doubt practicing for the fast-approaching Fourth of June tournament. Bluewer and Clayton walked from the school library to their house, carrying large stacks of books. Redmond and Harcourt were seen patrolling the edges of the fence surrounding Weston. Greenhill stalked aimlessly along the pavement, hitting his cricket bat against his palm and shooting paranoid stares at everyone he came across, so the students gave him a wide berth. Violet had spent the last two hours sitting hunched over in the Swan Gazebo, joined in the last hour by Cheslock, who seemed to be trying to talk him around with minimal success. The only people Lydia had not seen were Ciel and Sebastian, but Blue House was further away from her vantage point, and they were probably also practicing for the tournament. Now all of them were gone, and the grounds breathed a sense of eerie desolation.

The young girl stood up and was just about to reach for her bandaged arm when she heard a noise begin nearby. It was deep and low and repetitive, almost like….a drum. Lydia glanced toward the music hall, but it did not seem to be coming from there. It sounded as though it was emanating from one of the buildings nearest to the gates. Perplexed, Lydia stared in that direction, searching for anything out of place upon the grounds. She could see nothing, and yet….the rhythmic noise continued, a pounding drum, waves on a shore, the beating of a heart…. Lydia's eyes widened as she was forcefully reminded of the plot of the book she had stolen from Violet's room, _The Tell-Tale Heart._ Chilled fingers slipped it out of the crevice in her robe's pocket. A man of questionable sanity had murdered his fellow, who by his accounts had never done him any harm, and hidden the body underneath his floorboards. He then attempted to carry on with his life, all the while being driven mad by the relentless sound of the dead man's heart, still beating, which apparently only he could hear. Eventually he lost his mind completely and began to rip at the floorboards, exposing the body and his guilt to the world. Lydia mouthed the last lines of the story to herself. " _"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the_ _planks!—here, here!—it is the beating of his hideous heart!"_ " She turned the page to see the gruesome drawing of Derrick Arden. She shuddered, replacing the tract in her pocket and gazing stolidly across the grounds. There was no question of it. This sound….was exactly like the heartbeat she had imagined while reading the story. But what did that mean, and could it-

Lydia jumped and slid several inches down the roof upon raising her head and looking toward the source of the sound. This time there _was_ something out of place on the grounds. The shadow specter was standing before the old administration building, somehow darker than the falling night around it. Its faceless head was tilted up toward her, and once again it was beckoning her to come.

The young girl considered for a moment before threading her fingers through her bandages and leaping down onto the darkened lawn. As soon as she arrived, the specter ghosted up the steps of the old, deserted building. It melted through the doors, and Lydia followed inquisitively. She tried the first door handle, then the second. Both were locked.

Lydia breathed deeply and began to walk back down the steps, feeling a vague sense of relief. If they were locked, they were locked, and there was nothing she could do about it. Just because the specter could move through doors and walls, it could not reasonably expect her to do the same. True, she could punch through the door if needed, but that kind of thing was appropriate only in emergency situations. One mangled door handle and they would know someone had been inside. Perhaps she should return to Blue House and bring Sebastian back here with her. He would be able to-

A creaking sound to her left drew her out of her thoughts. Lydia turned to see one of the ground floor windows slowly being pushed open by a long, black arm. The specter leaned eerily through the open space and beckoned again as the beating sound continued, slightly louder.

_Bollocks. _

Lydia stood on the front lawn, staring pensively into the open window. Every part of her experience as an inspector's daughter told her it was a bad idea to enter a deserted building alone. It was pitch black in there, and she didn't even have lantern. She had no idea what kind of space she would be climbing into. It was obviously better to go and get Sebastian….and yet….Lydia gritted her teeth as the relentless beating became louder still, corroding her thoughts. It seemed to lull her like a moth to candlelight, one peaceful, encompassing heartbeat perfectly aligned with her own. It was….better….obviously better…and yet….and yet….and yet….

"Hey, what are you doing?!"

Lydia's senses returned at the harsh whisper, and she realized she was halfway through the window. Losing her balance, she tumbled backward onto the lawn and stared blearily at the upside-down figure of her younger brother. Ciel approached her quickly and helped her to sit up. He was wearing a cricketer's uniform and carrying a wooden bat in one hand and a lantern in the other, his customary eyepatch replaced by a heavier one. Lydia blinked at him for a few moments before registering his presence. "Ciel? What are you doing out here? Your room monitors will notice you're out of bed!"

The young heir waved this information off. "They'll overlook it. I'm on Sapphire Owl's cricket team, and without my strategies, there's no way we can win. More importantly, _what_ were you about to do?"

Lydia blinked again and stared up at the darkened maw of the window she had been climbing through. "I….it was….I don't suppose you can hear that steady drumming noise….can you?"

"Of course I can. That's why I'm out here investigating. I'm not sure where the bloody prefects are, though. This sort of thing falls under their jurisdiction." Ciel replied briskly, standing up as Lydia clambered to her feet and stared at the towering building. "What is it?"

"I've no idea," Lydia shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the empty window. "I saw the specter again. It wanted me to come inside. I was going to enter, but….it seems…. Do you reckon we ought to get Sebastian to come with us?"

Ciel shook his head, frowning at the mention of the name. "That demon is obligated by the contract to appear at my side whenever he senses danger approaching. If he is not here, that means we are not in danger at the present time."

"Ah," Lydia nodded faintly, noticing that her brother seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid her eyes. "In that case, we had better see this through. You take the lantern, and I'll lift you up to the window. If it appears safe, climb through and I'll follow."

Ciel huffed at this indirect reference to his short stature, but he allowed Lydia to boost him up on her shoulders. She could feel the drumming noise coursing through the building as she leaned against it, almost like a pulse. Ciel's voice rang out above her. "It seems all right. It's just a storage room full of boxes and filing cabinets. I don't see anything out of place."

Lydia moved her arm under her brother's knees and helped him maneuver through the small window. Nervously, she gripped the edges with her fingers and swung up after him, landing inside a room lit by the glow of his lantern. The light cast eerie shadows on the walls, but she saw no sign of the specter. "Keep your bat at shoulder level," she advised her brother as they tiptoed across the dusty floor. "We don't know what might be around the corner." Quietly, she patted the holster around her waist, where her newly loaded gun rested close to her hip.

"If there is danger, Sebastian will come," the young heir replied confidently as Lydia swung open the door. Ciel held his lantern out into the hallway, which was similarly deserted. Listening to the echoing sound of the drumbeat, the two siblings crept past covered statues and paintings with sheets thrown over the top. She had heard that the old administrative building was now used for storage, and this appeared to be the truth. Perhaps the specter was trying to lead them to another esoteric clue? She hoped no one in the nearby buildings would notice the light from Ciel's lantern moving past the windows. A few hallways later, this worry was negated as they moved deeper into the building, following the increasingly louder drumbeat cadence, and there were no more windows. Most of the rooms they passed lay empty. Ciel peered carefully into each one, and after a long bout of silence, he murmured to her, "You know, there's something strange about this building."

"Oh, you reckon? I hadn't noticed." Lydia steered them around a rather large statue, and her brother snorted sarcastically.

"I know what you mean, obviously. But now that we're inside it, I realize there's another strange thing. After the fire, when all the prefects and their fags were trying to think of places where we could set up temporary dormitories for displaced Purple House students, I suggested this building, since there's really nothing going on inside it. But I was told that all the rooms were full of stored items, and the school had nowhere else to keep them. Everyone took the prefects' word for it, and the old administrative building was never considered as a possibility for housing students. But I see now that many of these rooms have hardly anything inside them. We could have easily done some tidying and sheltered about half of Violet Wolf House in here."

"That's likely because the prefects are hiding something in this place," Lydia surmised, glancing down the hall and managing not to jump as she spotted the coal-black specter standing before a set of double doors. "And I think we're about to find out what it is." A second later, she did jump as her brother's hand unexpectedly seized her arm.

"_I see it!_" Ciel gasped, staring directly at the point where the specter was vanishing through the solid doors, still beckoning. "Bloody hell, that thing looks like a nightmare!"

"Too right it does. It hasn't tried to hurt me yet, though." Lydia stared down at her brother, taken aback by his sudden ability to see what had formerly been invisible to everyone but her. Did that mean the specter had intended to bring Ciel out here as well? Were they the only ones who could hear the heartbeat coming from all around them, as though they had finally reached the center of the great beast to which it belonged? Lydia wrapped her fingers around one of the handles and pulled. Locked tight. She tried and other one and got the same result. The brunette crossed her arms and waited, staying close to her brother as the beating continued. Nothing happened.

Ciel tugged softly on her sleeve. "Could you leap past the doors and open them from the inside?"

Lydia eyed the foreboding doors from top to bottom. She saw no light coming from underneath the doors' crack, but inside the rhythmic beating of the invisible heart, she thought she heard a faint scratching sound. "I _could_ do that…I suppose. However, leaping blindly into a room when I have no idea what is inside has caused me to sustain injuries in the past. I try to avoid it if at all possible."

"Oh. That's true. Don't do that, then." Ciel drew in his breath as the two siblings crept closer to the double doors, huddling together instinctively. The young heir held his lantern up to the handle and peered closely through the keyhole.

Lydia waited, her own heart pounding almost as loudly as the rhythmic beating surrounding them. "What do you see?"

"Nothing," Ciel shook his head and withdrew his uncovered eye. "The whole room seems pitch black. What kind of key would fit into this keyhole, anyway? It's too big-"

Something clicked simultaneously in their minds. Ciel turned to look at Lydia as she reached into her pocket and withdrew the key the specter had laid before her in the aftermath of the fire. His eyes were wide; her hands were trembling slightly. She had a moment of doubt when she slipped the brass key into the lock; the door handle was intricately decorated, and the key itself was so plain. They didn't seem to match at all. The next moment, the siblings stopped breathing as they heard the click of the lock releasing. This meant that whatever was in this room, one empty space away, was the thing which had caused the prefects to upend the school searching for her when they learned she had the key. This was it.

"I'll go first," Lydia whispered as she slipped the lantern from Ciel's hands. She took a breath, braced her bandaged arm in front of her body, and pushed the door open with it. The hinges made no noise, and as the light from her lantern penetrated the room, the beating sound stopped cold. Its absence somehow frightened her, and she glanced around wildly, looking for its source. They were standing on the threshold of what appeared to be a completely barren room. There was no furniture or paintings inside; no windows or carpeted floors. The room had a strange smell to it, a scent she could place only to her grandfather's funeral. Formaldehyde. Even as the light entered the room, several long, thick shadows remained around the edges, outside the lantern's glow. Lydia's eyes were drawn to the far wall, where a dark, oily figure was approaching from the gloom.

For a moment it appeared like a shadow, but it was not the shadow specter. This figure had discernible clothes. A black suit and a dark red tie. Shoes which looked like they had once shone, but were now dulled beyond repair. A top hat tilted precariously over a strangely indented head. And a face. It had a face. Lydia's fingers began to shake so wildly that the flame in her lantern guttered and swayed, casting leaping flares of light and darkness across the shadow's visage. He had a face, and it was one she knew.

It was the face of Derrick Arden.

The boy stopped near them, staring at them with a blithe, open expression. From the shadows, Lydia heard the stirring of multiple footfalls upon the bare floor, but her gaze was locked to Derrick Arden's filmy eyes. He tilted his head for a moment and then smiled charmingly, a winning smile like the one in his school photos. His hat slipped back to reveal harsh stitches marring the indent of his brow.

"Hello, my friends."


	39. Derrick Arden

**Cheerio to everyone reading, and my story marches on! We left off with a pretty big cliffhanger last time, so I'm going to reply to a few people and then we're going to get this show on the road. :)**

**Fabulous Ahjumma: You're so nice! I'm glad you are grateful for my existence, hehe. I'm pretty grateful to exist myself. Since you just got done fasting for Ramadan, I'm going to guess you live somewhere around the Arabian Peninsula, or maybe Indonesia? That's pretty cool. Wherever you are, I am glad my story was able to alleviate your boredom and give you something to enjoy. I work hard to do that through my writing. :)**

**ChaoticChesire: I love your username! Also, I'm glad you love my story. I will keep it up to the best of my ability, and thanks for reviewing!**

**/**

"Hello, my friends."

For a long moment, Ciel and Lydia could do nothing but stare, blue eyes open wide to take in the sight of the boy they had turned the school upside down trying to find. Now he was standing before them as if nothing was wrong, as if they had an arrangement to meet here and he was simply welcoming them like a gracious host. Derrick Arden. He was smiling like he did in his school pictures, but what on earth had happened to his head? The shape seemed off, the brow tilted, and had those really been _stitches_ she had seen when his hat had slipped? The smiling figure took several steps their way, and Lydia felt her body tensing up in blatant mistrust.

"Derrick Arden?" Ciel asked, narrowing his eyes at the other boy. "What are you doing here? Where the bloody hell have you _been?_ We've been searching for you all over this school, and your family-!"

"But I'm right here," the young aristocrat shrugged and smiled blithely, seeming completely unconcerned about all the trouble he had caused. "I know you've been looking for me, but there's really nothing to worry about. I'm right here."

"That doesn't change the fact that you disappeared for a year!" Ciel barked harshly. "What on earth have you been doing? I demand an explanation." The young heir took several steps toward the black-clad figure, glancing up in surprise when he was abruptly pulled back by Lydia's bandaged hand. The brunette narrowed her eyes at the vacant gaze of the student in front of them. This did not feel right. This felt too much like her dreams, the same aura of false calm emitting from the air around them. Underneath the calm was a deep current of menace, stirring gooseflesh upon her arms and neck.

"Derrick Arden," she stated, gripping her lantern forcefully. "Are you feeling quite yourself?"

"Of course." He tilted his head to the side, his neck slanting like a marionette whose string had gone slack. "I've never been better. I'm right here."

"You already said that!" Ciel exclaimed forcefully, glancing back and forth between the two taller young adults. "We can see that you're-"

"Are you?" Lydia interrupted, still staring at the shadows that cast a disturbing pallor over his face. "Are you really here?"

"Yeeeeeeesssss." The blankness in his eyes turned darker as the boy took a staggering step toward them, his voice dropping to a low gurgle. "I aaaaaaaam…right heeeeeeere."

"Ciel, get back," Lydia's hand shot out as she pulled her brother behind her, raising the lantern high above her head. The light spanned into the corners of the room, and she suddenly saw four more pairs of dulled, worn shoes shuffling toward them.

Derrick lurched, his face twisting into a gruesome mask. "Hellooooooo, my friiiiiiiiends. I aaaaaam…..riiiiiiiight…heeeeeeeeere!" The last glimmer of humanity vanished from his face, and he was the ghoul from her nightmares. He lunged toward her throat, his gaping mouth cracking at the seams.

Lydia brought the lantern crashing down into his head as his teeth grazed the collar of her suit. He hit the ground, spread-eagled and clumsy as the lantern's flame guttered and died. "The door!" she shrieked to her brother, and both siblings turned and raced through the darkness for the open exit. A meaty, foul-smelling body leapt out of nowhere, and Lydia screamed as she found herself engulfed in its arms. She punched it in the face and felt its jaw crack, but it did not recoil in pain or even appear to notice the damage. She felt teeth on the shoulder pads of her suit, digging to find flesh, and as she struggled to push its head off her, her fingers grazed over a vicious line of stiches sewn into waxen skin. A moment later, a mighty _thud_ dented the head as Lydia's eyes fell upon a short silhouette heaving a cricket bat over its shoulder. "Come on! Come on!" he shouted, and Lydia seized the moment and flung the attacking body off her. As she staggered to her feet, the thin light from beyond the doorway suddenly vanished. She turned to head her see a gaping monster looming over her little brother.

"_**CIEL!"**_

A tremendous, fleshy cracking noise caused her to scream in horror as the monster fell to a sudden wall of blackness. An arm reached out of the shadows and scooped her brother away from the advancing ghouls. "Fear not, master," came a soft, silky voice above her head. "I have come." Two bloody pinpricks opened in the darkness and scanned the surrounding room. "My, my, what strange state of affairs is this?" Lydia heard a familiar cracking sound and the thunder of another body collapsing. "You two always seem to find the most precarious situations." Another felling blow was struck. "And you wonder why I worry about leaving you alone?" A body hit the ground beside her, convulsed unnaturally, and raised its head in her direction. It seemed to sense her presence, although it could not see or hear her. The half-crushed face of one of Derrick Arden's friends snapped at her before a black-topped shoe emerged from the dimness and planted itself upon its head. The white-gloved hand of Sebastian leaned down and pulled her to her feet. "Ciel?" she called, trembling unconsciously. "Ciel?!"

"Right here," came his voice from underneath the glowing red eyes.

Sebastian guided her in front of him and urged her toward the door. "Master, let us escape this room and barricade the entrance." Lydia hurried into the hallway, gagging on the stench of formaldehyde that seemed to permeate her lungs. Ciel was set down beside her, and the demon abruptly slammed the doors as a risen body leapt for them. Fingernails grated against the wood, just like the night she had been forced to flee the tower. Fumbling in her suit pocket, Lydia located the key and jammed it into the lock, re-sealing the doors as more hands joined the first pair in seeking escape. Apart from the pounding and low, guttural noises, the boys did not make any sound as they clustered on the other side of the doors. Lydia's left hand shook as it recalled the spiny feel of stiches.

Ciel and Lydia leaned against the wall, panting in disbelief, as Sebastian hurried back and forth with statues and heavy furniture, placing them tightly in front of the locked double doors. When it became apparent that not even an elephant could have successfully plowed its way out of the room, the demon strode toward the siblings and bowed deeply. "At your service, as always, my masters."

"Good man, Sebastian." Lydia touched her shaking hand to his temple and the demon accepted it gracefully. "I think we had better- Ciel?!"

The young heir's breathing had devolved into ragged, suffocating gasps. Lydia knelt by his side and braced her hands against his back, the pressure helping to control his breathing. She cursed the fact that his herbal tonic was all the way back at Blue House, where she could not move freely, then turned to Sebastian. "Take him back to Sapphire Owl and administer the asthma tonic. I'll stand guard here and make sure those….things don't breach the door. Come back for me when you're through, and we can discuss how to proceed."

"But master, what if they do-?" Sebastian asked, hovering in dark concern.

"Then I'll leap away, of course. As long as I only have myself to worry about, I can avoid danger just fine." Lydia squeezed her brother's hand, who seemed only half-aware of what was going on, and stood back as Sebastian lifted him and vanished down the corridor at full tilt, his red eyes blazing as he glanced back at her. Lydia waited in silence broken only by the muffled groans and thuds coming from the other side of the door. What the bloody hell had just happened….?! The events of the night swam ludicrously before her mind. They had finally found Derrick Arden, but he was not at all who they had been searching for. He and his friends did not even seem human. Of all the things she didn't know, Lydia was sure she had never see anything like this before. The way they had moved, the waxen stitches in their skin, their vacant, filmy eyes….what did it all mean? What on earth had been done to them, and by whom? Lydia looked around for the specter, but for once, she did not see it. She was alone. Carefully, she leaned her ear up against a corner of the door, listening to the scratching and shuffling within. They had lost their minds. Or perhaps they had been driven mad. She called, "Derrick Arden?" and was met only with a senseless, inhuman groan. He had seemed somewhat conscious for a moment, he had spoken to them….but now there were no words. No hints of comprehension. No breathing….

No _breathing?_

As Lydia leaned her head toward the door to listen harder, she was suddenly interrupted by a furious shout from an adjoining hallway. She only had a second to register the rushing forms of four tall figures before something flew from the leader's hands and lunged like a cannon toward her face. She threw her arm up to block- the white bandages blazed in sudden lamplight- and then something exploded along the crook of her arm, sending white-hot spears of pain shrieking across her face and collarbone. A moment later, she realized it was herself shrieking as she turned and fled through a fog of pain, rounding the corner and tearing the bright-white bandages from her arm. She had no time to think of where she wanted to go, and she fell out of the light in the last place she had looked before falling in- the structural support beams of the roof, more than thirty feet above the floor.

Lydia scrambled to lay flat upon a huge, worn beam, and closed her eyes, trying not to think about how many spider webs she had probably disturbed with her sudden appearance. She felt blood running down her head and into her clothes, but she did not seem to be falling unconscious, which probably meant the wounds were shallow. What had he hit her with? Her question was answered a moment later when she peered over the edge of the beam to see Greenhill standing among the pieces of his shattered cricket bat, staring intently at the door they had barricaded. Bluewer and Redmond raced back from around the corner. "She's gone! Completely gone. That way is a dead end, but there's no one there!"

"I told you," panted a frightened voice belonging to the hooded member of the group, "she can appear and disappear at will. You won't find her. She's some sort of spirit, or-"

"A _spirit _who just deflected my bat with only one arm?!" Greenhill demanded, his voice spiking in rage. "Whatever the hell she is, she's been in there! She took the key and used it to find Arden! _She knows!_"

There was a moment of dead silence as all four prefects glanced toward the muffled thudding coming from behind the barricaded door. Lydia was too high up to see the expressions on their faces, but their voices belied their fear. "What are we going to do?" Bluewer asked, glancing around the darkened hallway frantically. "How can we fight against someone we can't even pin down in one place?!"

"She's not the only one with that power," Redmond reminded, lowering his already-hushed voice. "We could ask _him _to intervene."

"No," Violet whispered, causing the others to turn and stare sharply at him. "No, we can't. He won't help us a second time. He made that very clear when he arrived. We're not valuable to him- we're just a temporary means to an end." The hooded prefect shivered miserably. "What that end is, I don't know if we can even imagine. But he doesn't care at all about our fates, and if we bother him before the Fourth of June, he might decide to just dispose of us now."

The prefects stared blankly at each other once again and Lydia bit her lip and strove to remain absolutely silent. She wished they would stop speaking in pronouns and name the person they were referring to, but she doubted that would happen. Either they did not know an official name, or they were too afraid to speak it.

Redmond interrupted the hush of silence. "What can we do at this point? The Fourth of June is almost here, and the school is not at all secure. There might even be multiple enemies to deal with. Greenhill said he saw two silhouettes moving past the window, and the experiences we've had thus far suggest there is more than one active saboteur on the grounds….and we haven't even caught the first one. We're out of time."

"You're all giving up without a fight," Greenhill snarled, flexing the arm that usually held his cricket bat as he stared down his comrades. "Whatever powers that girl has, she's not invincible. She can be injured. I hurt her just now, even if she blocked the worst of the blow. And if she can be injured, she can be killed. And if she can be killed, so can her accomplices. We can silence them forever, and then we'll give their bodies to _him_ to use for his experiments. They'll never be found after he leaves this place, and all the evidence will be-"

"_Stop!_" Violet shrieked, lurching forward and seizing Greenhill's arm. "Please, please stop! This is insane! Can't you see how demented this is?! How many more people do you think you can just kill like that?! If three people find out, will you kill them? If ten people find out, will you kill all of them? What about twenty? Forty? It's _mad!_ You can't do this, Herman, please-!"

"_**DO NOT**_ _tell me what I cannot do!_ We're far past that point!" Greenhill roared, lashing out his arm and sending Violet reeling into the wall. He struck the panel hard and fell onto his side, gasping, as the other prefect leered above him. "If you want to lay there and snivel like the little wretch you are, go ahead! I will do whatever it takes to secure my future." Greenhill snatched the lantern from Redmond's hands and began to stride off down the shadowed hallway as Bluewer knelt next to Violet, feeling his back for injuries. The Green Lion prefect turned sharply at the end of the hallway. "If you're not willing to do the same, you might as well wander into that room and let Arden devour you. You'll be no better off if we're found out." With a sharp flash of the lantern, he was gone.

Redmond pulled Violet to his feet, but he immediately collapsed to his knees again, his sobs audible above the malevolent rasping from the other side of the door. Bluewer and Redmond glanced at each other above his head, looking like they had no idea what to do. Redmond knelt down carefully and slung one of Violet's limp arms over his shoulder. "Come with us, Violet," he murmured darkly to the hooded prefect. "We have to keep on. We'll….we'll think of something…." His voice broke at the end as he folded into himself. Bluewer joined him on Violet's other side, and the three forlorn prefects slowly trudged into the darkness, their footfalls fading to tiny echoes, like raindrops on hard earth.

Lydia waited until she heard the heavy front doors slam shut, then began to reach across her body for her bandaged arm. A stirring over her left shoulder nearly caused her to lash out, until she heard the smooth word, "Master."

"Sebastian," she whispered, rolling over just enough to see him situated silently in the beams above her. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," the demon murmured, winding his way down to her with graceful ease. "It was most fortuitous of you to choose this hiding place. We have witnessed a very interesting scene. Now, if you will allow me to carry you back to Blue House, I believe we must attend to your wounds posthaste."

"But what about _them?_" Lydia craned her neck toward the barricaded door which blocked the ghoulish terrors from the school outside.

Sebastian knelt on the beam beside her and pulled her closely to his chest. "That door has now been blocked for nearly half an hour while they have tried to get through it. I believe they are physically and mentally incapable of finding an exit on their own."

"We nearly gave them one," Lydia muttered, thinking of the horror that could have been unleashed if Sebastian had not come in time. "Very well, let's return to Blue House and see what's to be done about this awful mess."

"Yes, master."

/

"They've gone absolutely, completely, utterly mad. That's the only possible explanation."

Once again, Sebastian, Ciel, and Lydia were gathered in a close arc in Sebastian's room, striving to keep their voices low and inconspicuous. Ciel was reclining against the headboard of the bed, fatigued by his ordeal but much improved thanks to the timely dose of the asthma tonic. Lydia was seated in the chair as Sebastian hovered over her, carefully wiping up the blood and cleaning multiple shallow wounds upon her face and neck. The young girl thought darkly that this seemed to be a reoccurring theme, Sebastian patching her up after she had been injured in an extremely improbable and dangerous manner. She turned her head a bit to the side, trying not to move too much for his sake. "What sort of thing could so fully strip the sanity from all five of those students, though?"

"I've no idea." The young heir shook his head and frowned. "You did say the prefects mentioned something about some sort of experimentation being conducted?"

"Yes, Greenhill shouted as much while I was listening. None of them stated a name, but I surmised from their conversation that there is someone behind the scenes who has been pulling the strings from the beginning, someone responsible for making Derrick and his friends the way they are now. If we can capture that person, we can find out his methods, but-" Lydia paused and shuddered in a combination of pain and fear. "I don't know if it will be possible for us to reverse the damage on those already afflicted. They didn't just attack us, they tried to _eat_ us. That was one of the most gruesome, disturbing things I have ever seen in my _life._ How can madness like that possibly be fixed?"

Ciel sighed, burying his face in his small hand. "Her Majesty will not be pleased with this outcome if her nephew proves beyond saving."

Lydia bit her lip as Sebastian pried a sliver of wood out of her cheek. "Aaaah! Blast it all, I cannot believe I've managed to get splinters in my _face._ At least I blocked Greenhill's bat before it hit me." She thought back to the tremendous force with which the cricket bat had impacted her arm, enough to send shards of wood flying like shrapnel into her skin. "He threw it with intent to kill. And….when Violet was trying to stop him, he specifically said, "How many _more_ people do you think you can just kill like that?" So I think it would not be amiss to deduce that Greenhill has killed before, and the other prefects are covering up his crimes for unknown reasons."

Sebastian growled lowly as he knelt beside the medical bag. "You are very lucky one of these shards did not pierce your throat or your eyes, master."

There was silence in the wake up this numbing statement as Sebastian unearthed a roll of gauze. At last, Lydia opened her eyes and fixed them upon the others. "There is….there is something else I thought of while I was guarding the doors. What if Derrick Arden and his friends are not mad, but rather….possessed? What if the specter I've been seeing is a demon after all, and it's taken possession of them and is manipulating the prefects? We could see about arranging an exorcism-"

"I doubt that will be necessary, master," Sebastian interrupted quickly, tugging painfully on one of her wounds. "My observations of those students while I was driving them back did not lead me to sense that a demonic possession was occurring. Rather, I believe something much stranger may be taking place."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, hissing in belated pain as her raw cheek stung.

Sebastian's hands moved gracefully as he applied the gauze. "In the case of possession, the demon inhabits a vessel that is already occupied. It forces the human's awareness down into a dark, subconscious state so the demon can take over executive functions of the body and act through the human vessel. In these instances, the human's soul remains inside the body- it is simply subdued, and if the demon is cast out, it will surge forward again to reclaim its domain. If Derrick Arden and his friends were possessed, I ought to have sensed a soul signature within each one of them. As it was, I deduced nothing of the sort from any of their number."

"Wait, _what?_" Ciel demanded, leaning forward abruptly. "You're saying they didn't have their _souls?_ And yet they were actively moving around? How is such a thing even possible?"

"I know not, young master. I have never before seen anything like it." Sebastian murmured, raising his head to meet their eyes. "I also observed additional symptoms in those individuals which indicate that someone has tampered with a very fundamental aspect of their nature. Respiration and pulse were nonexistent, which would not be the case in the instance of a demon possession. The smell of preserved flesh was strong. The blows I struck upon them did not knock them unconscious or even seem to hurt them. And they appeared to be able to pinpoint the location of human beings inside the room without being able to hear or see them."

"That's insane," Ciel muttered lowly. "So that would mean…."

"I noticed their lack of breathing as well," Lydia stated quietly, gazing toward the window from which she could just see the old administrative building through the darkness. "I also observed that the students all seemed to have grotesque stitches running across their brows." She traced a cold finger over her own forehead and bit her lip. "It seems utterly mad, I know. However, I don't think we can make reliable judgments about what happened to those boys without direct evidence, which brings us to the next question; now that we know where the missing students are, how shall we proceed in the investigation?"

Ciel sighed and hunched his shoulders. "Well, we cannot produce them to the Queen and their families as they are presently. It would be an absolute travesty. We need to find the one who did this to them. It's the only way we're going to get answers. And I would bet that the person we need is the Headmaster. The Fourth of June is just three days away. I _was_ going to ask the Headmaster at the midnight tea party for information regarding the students, but now that we know where they are, I believe I will progress to simply capturing him at that event and confronting him with the students' condition. Once we have him in our clutches, we'll be able to find out all he knows. That goes for the prefects as well."

"How are your preparations for the tournament going?" Lydia asked, nodding in agreement.

"They are shaping up as planned," the young heir replied, and in the light from Sebastian's lamp, Lydia noticed for the first time the uncharacteristic roughness of his hands, the scuff marks on his clothing. He had been working hard. "I will definitely procure a seat at the midnight tea party. We only need to uphold this farce for the next few days. Once we've secured the Headmaster and gotten to the truth, it won't matter who knows of our real identities."

Lydia opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a sudden commotion from below them. Sebastian tilted his head and stared at the floor, listening with his supernatural hearing. "It seems Bluewer has returned from his nighttime excursion and is rousing the room monitors. I must hasten down there and address this disturbance as housemaster. Young master, please accompany me. I will pretend that you have been with me for an extended tutoring session, so suspicion will not fall upon you for being out of bed after hours. Master, stay here and lock the door behind us. We cannot risk an errant student wandering in and finding you."

Lydia nodded, and rose on shaky legs to follow the two males to the door. Ciel glanced back at her, his blue eye reflected briefly in her own before she eased the door shut and quietly turned the lock. She stood alone in the center of the room for a moment, feeling the ragged cuts upon her face flare and ebb in pain. Her fleshy left hand still felt the stiches scraping against her fingers as she struggled to evade the teeth of the monster. Shuddering, Lydia strode over to Sebastian's wash basin and scrubbed her hand vigorously with soap, pouring fresh water over it and imagining the disturbing sensation trickling away from her skin. Feeling slightly better, she turned to climb onto the bed and nearly dropped the pitcher. There was something sitting in the middle of Sebastian's bed which she _knew_ had not been there when he and Ciel had left the room. Bracing herself, she crept gingerly across the floor and picked up the rush lamp, holding it high enough that she could see the object clearly.

It was the Latin dictionary she had lost in the library.

Lydia stared at it in wild alarm before a flicker of movement to her left caused her to overreact, spinning and brandishing the heavy lamp defensively at the window. It took her a moment to realize the movement was coming from outside the window. Sliding her feet forward, Lydia stared down onto the lawn, illuminated by the waxing moon, and was met with the sight of the flowing black specter just outside Blue House's perimeter. It was neither beckoning nor pointing. It stood perfectly still, staring up at her window with its faceless gaze.

A tinder of some violent, fearsome emotion was touched off in Lydia's chest. The young girl set the rush lamp upon the desk with an almighty bang. She threw out her arms and seized the curtains, dragging them closed and shrouding the room in darkness. Tossing the book upon the dresser, Lydia heaved herself into bed and bundled under the covers, closing her eyes so she might see nothing. Time passed, but she did not fall asleep, currents of electricity racing through her mind.

Sebastian did not comment on the mysterious appearance of the book when he returned to the room, but he climbed into bed beside her, wrapped both arms around her bundled form, and held on so tightly that she felt she was suffocating.


	40. Last Conversations

***opens door and falls into room* I'm back! Whew!~ I finally got this darn chapter written. Hopefully it's all right. Please enjoy! :)**

The streets rang with the clatter of traffic and the bustle of human voices as Lydia strode down the steps of the Royal Hospital in London. She had dropped in thinking to visit Meirin, but had been informed that the maid's condition had improved to the point where she had been satisfactorily returned to the town house two days past. Instead, Lydia had spent a good two hours in the company of her aunt, carrying stacks of linen and pitchers of water from room to room as Madame Red made her rounds. Sometimes the two women spoke in low, serious tones, and other times the mood lightened and there was laughing and merriment between them and the patients they encountered. Lydia found it refreshing that none of the clients or hospital staff were concerned with who she was- since she was accompanying Doctor Durless, they simply assumed her to be a charity aide. Her aunt was doing well, and had taken charge of the town house since Ciel and Sebastian had begun their secretive residence at Weston. She found it hard that she could not communicate regularly with her niece and nephew, but Lydia had assured her that the case they had set out to conclude was almost solved, and they would be able to resume their regular identities and living situations in less than two sunrises' time. The Fourth of June was only a day away. Lydia did not mention the mortal danger they had found themselves in, or the disturbing condition of the missing students. If all that had to come out, she would prefer it be revealed after their stay at Weston was through, when her aunt would not have to lose sleep worrying about her relatives being attacked by a ghoul or bludgeoned by a cricket bat. If they could just make it through tomorrow without either of those things happening, the game would finally be up….

"Keep that revolver of yours loaded," her aunt advised as Lydia left her. The young girl looked back for a moment, surprised, before Madame Red smiled and Lydia realized she must have been speaking with her father. Nodding, she patted the lightweight holster strapped under the thick waist-ribbon of her dress, and bade her vibrant aunt farewell.

Lydia headed uptown, avoiding Camden, as she did not think she could tolerate speaking with friendly neighbors as though everything was normal when her stomach felt like it was clenched in a mass of sailor's knots. Ciel could handle himself during the tournament, and anyway, he would have Sebastian watching over him from the sidelines. She was not worried about that phase of the plan. However, the midnight tea party was causing her considerable concern. It was on this occasion that the plan was to reach its conclusion, and she was still unsure where she ought to locate herself during it. It didn't help that she had never seen the private garden in which the tea party was to take place, so she would be risking too much by trying to leap there directly. This meant she needed to station herself nearby….but how close was too close? Would the tea party be guarded to ensure privacy? And what sort of person was the mysterious Headmaster whom they would finally meet face-to-face?

Lydia was so busy thinking about these problems that she didn't notice someone was trying to talk to her until they touched her shoulder. The brunette glanced quickly down into the eyes of a slightly shorter girl with freckles and brown-reddish hair. She wore colorful clothing and she held a stack of handbills in her arms. "Pardon me fer interruptin' ye, miss, but ye look like a lass that could use a bit o' cheer. Do ye know there's a circus in town? Come an' be amazed by magical acts performed by the best talent in all o' England!"

Lydia smiled politely. "Oh, well, that's rather kind of you, but I'm afraid I am far too preoccupied-"

A brightly-lettered handbill was determinedly thrust into her face. "Don't mind yer troubles now, miss. Put 'em from yer mind as ye enter our tents o' wonder and mystery!"

"But I-"

"An' a lucky young lady ye are, too, 'cos fer a limited time, we're givin' out one free ticket a day to ye fine London folk. An' today, our winner is you!" The girl didn't miss a beat as she proceeded to tie a beaded drawstring pouch around Lydia's wrist, from which she could see the ticket peeking out. "We'll surely be honored by yer presence!"

Lydia sputtered out a few more incoherent protestations as she was battered by a swell of passerby. She fumbled with the handbill in her face, her eyes skidding down a procession of lions and tigers and bears to a large emblem in the middle of the page….

"Holy Mary!" she yelped, causing several pedestrians to steer away from her. "This is-! But how could this be here?" She looked up, intent on seeking an explanation from the handbill girl, only to find she had vanished so thoroughly that she'd left not even an opening in the crowd. The only proof of her existence was the florid handbill and the drawstring ticket pouch upon Lydia's wrist, stirring faintly in the breeze.

Lydia blinked and stared again at the seal she had come to associate with the mysterious figure of Baron Kelvin. A silhouette of a lion rearing up on its hind legs, surrounded by a haze of frills and fanciful curls. The first time she had ever seen it, she remembered thinking that it looked like a circus animal. But this connection made no sense- of all the information they had found about Baron Kelvin, there was nothing to indicate the man had any ties to a circus, of all things. Could it be merely a coincidence?

Lydia began to walk, keeping her eye out for the young handbill girl in case she reappeared. She was sure they had never met before, but the girl had been most insistent that Lydia come to the circus, even to the point of giving her a free ticket. _That_ was odd. Glancing past the seal, Lydia scanned the paper for information about this supposed circus. Noah's Ark, it was called. It was located at the fairgrounds, and their grand finale performance was-

Tomorrow night. Lydia exclaimed under her breath and kept walking, heedless of where she was going. Of course, it _had_ to be tomorrow night. It could not possibly happen on any night except the one most inconvenient for her. She checked the time below the date, and saw that the program was slated to run from 8:00 to 11:30 pm. Theoretically, she ought to have time to leap to the fairgrounds, investigate the circus for connections to Baron Kelvin, and leap back to Weston before the midnight tea party began. However, Lydia had learned over her years assisting her father that things which worked out in theory did not always work out in practice. Tomorrow night was not one during which she could afford to make mistakes. She would have to speak with Sebastian as soon as it was safe for her to do so. For now, she needed to make herself scare for the rest of the day, then find someplace to change into her Weston uniform before she leapt back there at dusk to spend one last night in hiding.

/

Light beaded in the corners of her eyes as Lydia felt herself materialize in the cool interior of the Swan Gazebo. According to the clock face of Big Ben, which she had been looking at just before she had leapt away from London, it was fifteen minutes until Weston's nighttime curfew. She stared across the night-washed lawn to the tower's clock, which confirmed the same. She was just about to settle into one of the vacated chairs and wait until it was safe to leap to Sebastian's room when she heard a faint intake of breath behind her.

Lydia was at the railing of the gazebo before she knew who the breath belonged to. As she tilted her body and heaved herself over the edge, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the pale figure of Gregory Violet sitting frozen on the settee. His hood was down, his hair mussed, and even in the low light she could tell he had been crying. The next second, her feet hit the lawn and she crashed away through the shrubbery, angling toward the ruins of Violet Wolf House.

"_Wait!_ Come back!" She heard the thudding of his feet as he gave chase, tailing her as she raced around a corner of ruined brick and over a pile of shadowed debris. He was not fast enough to catch her, but his voice would carry across the grounds and alert the others to her presence. _Son of a gun!_ Even if she leapt away, there was no guarantee he would not rouse the other prefects, and the last thing she needed was a school-wide manhunt on the night before the tournament. Fuming to herself, Lydia dodged behind another wall and pressed herself flat against the ridge, waiting for him. She heard his footsteps increase in tempo as he drew nearer. As soon as he came into view, she lunged out of hiding and tackled him across the grass. The impact knocked the breath from both of them, and for a moment everything was a tangled muddle of limbs and robes as they tumbled down the lawn. Lydia dug her knees into the ground and flipped herself on top of him. He tried to push her off, but the brunette roughly seized his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head. "No more yelling!" she demanded emphatically. Panting, the two youths stared at each other as the darkened shell of Violet Wolf House hovered above them.

The slender prefect gritted his teeth and tried to regain control of his arms. Lydia let him wear himself out, twisting and fluttering like a sparrow caught in a snare. He did not attempt to scream for help, perhaps knowing he and Lydia would be the only two outside so close to curfew. Eventually, his lungs seemed to reach their maximum capacity to supply his body with energy. He relaxed his struggling in exhaustion and stared up at her with scared, bright eyes.

Lydia frowned sharply as she met his gaze. "Well?"

"….What?" Violet murmured in a small voice, his eyes darting around frantically as he looked for a way out of her iron grip.

"Well, what is it? You went to all the trouble to chase me down just now. What do you want?"

The prefect blinked and turned his head to stare fixatedly at her bandaged arm, as if it might turn into something horrible. Then his eyes locked onto the figure of the girl looming above him. "I….I…." His breathing became fast and shallow. " P-please….whatever you are….whatever you want, I'm begging you….please go away from here!"

Lydia stared down at him in silence, not having expected such a direct and impossible plea. Somewhere out in the night, the bell for curfew began to toll. "Do you think me a folk spirit, that I can be summoned and banished with simple exhortations?"

Violet shivered and squirmed helplessly upon the grass. "I don't know! I don't know what you are, but I know you've already found what you were seeking. You've found Derrick Arden. That's what you wanted, isn't it?! By all means, take him and his friends and _go!_"

Lydia furrowed her brow darkly. "I would do that, if I thought it would be of any good whatsoever. But the Derrick Arden I found two nights ago was not the boy I was seeking. You prefects have _done_ something to him, and to the other students as well." Lydia tightened her grip on Violet's wrists. "So tell me, how is it those boys show no signs of being alive, yet still they move and even speak? Who is responsible for making them like that, and how was it done?"

Violet's eyes widened and he suddenly tried to twist himself out from under her. He only managed to elicit a shriek of pain as he wrenched his restrained arms at an odd angle. Lydia caught him before he could do more damage and gently eased him back into the grass. He looked so easy to break, and despite all the trouble he was causing her, she did not want to hurt him. Even so, she needed to know what dark things his tear-filled eyes had seen. She knew that he was haunted, perhaps by her, but even more so by the ghoul-shadow of Derrick Arden. Now she needed to know why. "Tell me," she insisted strongly. _"What did you do?"_

Violet's voice became ragged and dark. "I can't," he whispered, his hollow eyes seeming to sink to a depth she could not fathom. "You can't know. No one can know, never ever. If they find out, we'll be expelled from this school. Our lives will be over. We gave _everything_ to this school!" A flicker of fire sparked in Violet's eyes, and he pushed suddenly against her hold. "And you- you've been pretending to be a student, deceiving everyone, when really you don't belong here at all! How could you know what has to be done to protect our traditions?! You don't understand anything!"

Lydia gritted her teeth and pushed him back down with greater force. "That may be true. I may not understand anything about your customs, many of which I think are unnecessarily outdated. And even if you were to tell me, I probably still could not comprehend what possessed you to allow your fellow students to fall to such a state when you were entrusted to watch over them. But that's not the _point,_" Lydia growled, her blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. "The point is that at this very moment, there are six families caught up in the agony of uncertainty, not knowing why their sons and brothers have ceased speaking to them. Wondering if they did something wrong, if their loved ones have stopped loving them. When you cherish your family, to be apart like that is….terrible." The brunette grimaced and stared across the grounds toward the old administration building. "They need to have an answer. They need to see their boys again. Or if such a thing cannot be possible….if those creatures in that room can never again be human….then at least their families deserve to bury their bodies, so they can always know exactly where they are."

Violet shivered and closed his eyes, turning his face toward the grass as though wishing to hide in it. Lydia pressed on determinedly. "And you _know_ that. Violet. Whatever you prefects did to those boys, you know it was wrong. I saw the painting in your room. I saw the drawing in your book. _The Tell-Tale_ _Heart._ I understand why its plotline draws you. He's stuck in your head, isn't he? Derrick Arden. I see him in nightmares, but you see him all the time, don't you? Do you really think you can go through your life like that?"

"_**Stop it!**_**"** Violet screamed, writhing violently under her. "For God's sake, stop it! It's too late! I can't change it! I didn't know….I didn't know what would happen that night! I didn't mean to, I didn't want it…." The prefect's breathing devolved into sobs, tears running from the corners of his eyes as he gradually ceased struggling and lay limply in the grass. "Please….please stop….you're hurting me…."

Lydia did not know if he meant she was hurting him mentally or physically, but she loosened her grip on his wrists unconsciously. "It won't stop, Violet. Whatever he's become….the beating of his hideous heart….it will never stop as long as you keep hiding him. It will drive you mad. You need to tear up the floorboards and face it….whatever it was in you that caused you to turn on him. It was in you long before you met Derrick Arden."

Violet shook his head, his tears falling sideways onto the lawn. "I can't speak about that night. I can't, I can't, I can't. It's not just me who will lose everything. My….my friends…."

"_Are_ they your friends?" Lydia questioned sharply. "I'm fairly sure Greenhill considered you acceptable collateral damage when he tried to crush me in the library the other day. He doesn't care who he has to go through to get me."

"I know," Violet whispered miserably. "I know that, but….he's scared too. We're all so frightened, we can barely think straight."

"What exactly are you frightened of, aside from me?" Lydia questioned. "Who is the one you were speaking of when you said that "He" would not help you a second time? Who is he, and what did he do for you the first time?"

The dark-haired prefect pressed his trembling lips together and desperately averted his eyes. Lydia sighed and glanced at the clock face, considering her options. She needed to get back to Sebastian's room soon, or the demon would come looking for her and Violet might see him. Sebastian and Ciel needed to stay in disguise until midnight tomorrow, and the Fourth of June tournament needed to proceed as planned so Ciel could earn his way into the midnight tea party. If that were to happen, she could not just leave Violet tied up someplace, as the absence of Purple House's prefect would surely throw the whole day off. However, she could not release him immediately either. If he were to rouse the school, they still had the whole night left to search for her. She needed to wait until the morning, when visitors would begin flooding in and no one would have time to do anything but play their parts in order to uphold the school's traditions. Then Violet would no longer be a threat. But where was she to keep him in the meantime? Her eyes turned back to the clock face, and she suddenly had an idea.

The brunette sighed in consternation. "All right then, don't tell me. Either way, I suppose we had better get off this lawn." Maintaining her grip on his wrists, Lydia promptly slid off him and flipped him onto his side. "You're not going to like this, but you'll have to endure it for now."

The prefect flailed and kicked and Lydia tugged off her blue tie and used it to bind his hands securely behind his back. Once this was accomplished, she unknotted the purple bow around his neck and used it to restrain his ankles. She was finally able to stand up as Violet twisted about in the grass, trembling uncontrollably. "W-what are you doing? Let me go!"

"It's all right," Lydia reassured, her voice dropping to a soothing tone. In spite of her intimidating strength and unfeminine character, she really did not enjoy scaring people. "I will not hurt you, but I cannot let you go just yet. You might rouse the school against me." She stood up and took a few steps toward the inner grounds, beginning to unravel the bandages upon her wrist. "Therefore, I have to-"

"No, stop! Don't leave me out here!" Violet's strained voice pleaded as he tried to roll himself onto his knees. "I can't be alone out here anymore! I know….I know he's watching me! I always feel him watching me! I can't stand it….I can't…." The prefect began to hyperventilate as Lydia dropped to her knees and helped him balance upright. It was probably no good trying to be harsh with him, she figured. Violet was such a troubled, fragile creature; it made her feel inexplicably obligated to protect him, even though he threatened the security of her position. She sighed again and gently touched his shoulder.

"I am not leaving you out here. I'll be gone for just a second, and then I'll take you indoors for the night. I promise there's no need to panic."

A second later, Lydia had opened the bandages upon her wrist and flashed through the world of light into Sebastian's bedroom. She appeared just as the demon was climbing out the window, an aggravated expression upon his face. He swung himself back in immediately. "Master-"

"Sebastian, I need you to go to the room at the top of the clock tower, immediately. I'll join you there momentarily. Do not say a word to me until I signal that it's safe. There's no time for questions now- oh, and let me have your tie."

Sebastian looked as though he wanted to tell her to lie down and return to her senses. However, he obediently removed his blue tie and handed it to Lydia. The brunette nodded and vanished once again, reappearing in the same spot on the lawn. Violet seemed to be in the middle of panicking as he pulled against his improvised restraints. Lydia considered trying to calm him down, but figured it would be nothing doing until she got him safely out of the night air. She bent down beside him and proceeded to knot Sebastian's tie over his wide eyes, muttering, "Sorry, sorry, sorry…." as the loss of his vision made him cry out in fear. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and reached for her bandages. The next moment they were standing in the shadowy interior of Edward's secret room.

It had not changed at all since the last time she had been inside, when she and Ciel had fought so bitterly. The furniture was cast in an eerie light as the glow of the moon filtered through the clock face. Lydia's body spasmed wildly as she spotted a tall black figure standing beside the chair. A second later, she realized it was just Sebastian waiting there for her. She pressed her finger against her lips and, not knowing what else to do with him, picked up Violet and deposited him onto the cushioned bed.

The prefect struggled madly and then slackened, turning his head blindly about the room. Tremulously, he whispered, "Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe," Lydia replied, sitting far away from him on the bedframe. "Somewhere far from the rest of the school. Screaming will not help you, so don't try it."

Violet whimpered, and Lydia realized that had sounded much more threatening than she'd intended. "Er, not that I'm going to do anything to make you scream. You'll be fine. I'll let you go in the morning, once the bells toll for turn-out. I will not hurt you."

"You're not going to beat me if I won't tell you about Derrick Arden?"

"No, not at all." Lydia shook her head vociferously. "I would like you to tell me what you know. It would make things easier for both of us. However, I am capable of finding out on my own without your assistance. I do not want you setting off a school-wide manhunt for me tonight; that is why I've brought you here."

Violet angled his head toward the sound of her voice. "Please untie me."

"Sorry, but I can't have you finding out where we are. It's not yet time for all to be revealed." Lydia crossed her arms bluntly and nodded at Sebastian, who had drawn nearer and seemed to have grasped the gist of what was going on.

The prefect squirmed uncomfortably and shrank into the cushioned mattress. "Then at least….stay with me. Don't leave me locked in here alone."

"I will stay," Lydia promised softly. "So then, _that creature_ is more fearsome to you than I am?"

"You're terrifying," Violet murmured shakily. "I know you're not a normal human being. I don't understand why you came here to ruin my life. But at the same time….you saved it. That day in the library…." He shivered and gritted his teeth. "I don't understand you at all."

Lydia did not know what to say in response, but she was spared the necessity when Sebastian's gloved hand gently pulled her around to face a piece of paper on which he had written the words, _Are you well,_ _master?_

Lydia nodded and took the pen from his fingers, scribbling below his sentence, _I am fine. This boy tried to catch me as I returned to Weston, so I had to capture him to ensure he would not ruin our scheme. Tomorrow morning I will let him go and hide myself, and we can proceed as planned._

Sebastian nodded and penned gracefully, _What are your orders for tonight?_

_Stay here,_ Lydia wrote, eyeing the closed door. _The last time I was in this room at night, I had to face that creature. But I do not believe it will come if you are here._

Sebastian wrote _Yes, master,_ and bowed, settling onto the bed beside her without a sound. Violet seemed afraid of what was going on within the sudden silence. "W-where are you?" he whispered in a tiny voice.

"Right here," Lydia murmured, resting her tired head upon the demon's shoulder.

The bound prefect was quiet for a long time. Lydia wondered if he was also exhausted by their recent ordeals, still unable to sleep in peace. The moon rose higher on the glassine clock face, and Sebastian wrapped his cold fingers around her uncovered wrist. She hoped that Ciel was sleeping well, seeing as he had an extremely strenuous day ahead of him. As if reading her thoughts, Violet raised his head and intoned, "What….What's going to happen tomorrow? What are you going to do?"

"That is not for you to know," Lydia responded firmly. "You cannot stop me from revealing the truth about your conduct within this institution. You ought to know that by now."

"So then….tomorrow, you will….I don't know how you'll go about it, but tomorrow will be….our last day as welcomed students of this school."

"Assuming you have committed a crime which would cause that status to be revoked, then….yes. Although I don't think there's much room left for speculation at this point." Lydia leaned slightly toward Violet. "As of yet, I have no idea what dark powers you invoked to reanimate those boys into such ghastly creatures. But one way or another, you prefects are responsible for their deaths, aren't you?"

Violet flinched and moaned softly. "I didn't mean to! I didn't plan it….none of us did. It took just a second, faster than we could think….and then it was done, and we couldn't fix it, so we had to do something…."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Lydia asked, her blue eyes catching in the lamplight. "If I can report that you confessed, your punishment may be more lenient than that of the others. The authorities reward those who provide information, even if they're criminals."

The dark-haired boy shuddered and twisted stressfully at the fabric binding his wrists. It gave him no freedom, only pain. Eventually, his brittle voice seeped out of the mattress. "I can't do it. I can't give them away."

"You cannot stop me from finding the truth about all of you," Lydia reminded as she hovered over him.

"I know…." Violet whimpered, relaxing his strained body. "I think….I've known that for a while, even before tonight. As soon as I found out what you were really after, I had a premonition that you'd find it. You're stronger than we are. But….but Bluewer, Redmond, and Greenhill are my friends. They were the first friends I had in my entire life. So I can't….even though I know we're going to lose, I can't be the one to betray them, not even to save myself. Don't ask me again."

Lydia stared at him thoughtfully, then shook her head in begrudging acceptance. "Well, I suppose that's that, then," she muttered, shifting her legs onto the bed. Violet tensed at the movement, and she stilled her body. "It's all right. I respect honorable intentions when I see them. I won't question you about Derrick Arden anymore." Noting that his shivering had not gone away, she awkwardly dragged the bed's quilt up to his shoulders and tucked it around him.

"Thank you," the prefect whispered. Lydia said nothing and leaned tiredly against Sebastian, letting the demon wrap his coat around her body. His red eyes glowed like dying embers in the dim light of the tower. Violet was silent for a long, long time; long enough that Lydia was momentarily unsure whether she was dreaming when she heard him murmur softly, "You're not quite….the villain I imagined."

"Nor are you," Lydia breathed languidly, her senses detecting nothing of alarm in the surrounding night. "Overall, it probably doesn't mean much, but….I'd like you to know that none of my actions against you or your friends have been malicious in intent. I derive no pleasure or vindication from seeing others frightened and suffering. I seek the truth because I am convicted that it is the right thing to do. Even though it hurts, even though it's dangerous. That is all."

A tiny breath of laughter fluttered past Violet's dark lips. "You're more of a prefect than I am. Relentlessly pursuing the truth…." He pressed his head suddenly into the mattress, and though Lydia could not see his eyes, she could hear tears in his voice. "You're going to hate me once you find it, though."

"Will I?" Lydia murmured, glancing up at Sebastian as if to ask him whether she still had hatred in her. The demon's face was inscrutable, and Lydia figured he probably did not understand the emotions behind their words.

"You will. Everyone will. That's why….all this time, I've tried so hard to hide it….it was pure self-interest in the end. I just….didn't want to go back to being all alone, the way I was before I came to Weston. I'm not….really a good person. If I was, I would be different….I'd have done something else that night…."

Lydia was silent as Violet wept in anguish, his broken sobs seeming to fill the room to the ceiling. What ought she to do, if anything? She could not change what the prefects had done; neither could she absolve them of responsibility for their crimes. But even so, this boy was helpless and in tears before her, and to do nothing went against her nature. Lydia's roving eyes latched onto the edge of her bandages, and she suddenly had an idea. Lowering her legs to the floor, she waved for Sebastian to step back before she stood and gently touched the face of the miserable prefect. His cheeks were lined with tear trails, and his lips trembled in grief. He turned his face up at her touch, then softly burrowed into her hand. "Violet…." Lydia whispered, slightly touched by this display of trust. She turned her wrist to open the bandages. A second later, they were in the midst of a world made up of golden clouds, sonorous and reverberating. This time, Lydia did not begin to glide through them. They stayed where they were, bodies of stardust, listening to the lutes of distant voices carried by the light. They listened for so long that it became like a lullaby, like everything in the universe held inside those high, clear notes.

This time Lydia did not so much fall as slowly drift out of the light. When she found that she could blink her eyes, she knew she had returned to the natural world. She was sitting in the same spot she had left, and Violet lay fast asleep under her hand. His face was relaxed into a peaceful expression. The brunette gave a tragic smile and brushed his hair behind his ears. "Sleep, Violet," she told him softly. "Be separated from your torment for the rest of the night. This is the only mercy I can give you now."

Sebastian glided softly toward her and handed her a note. _You ought to sleep as well, master._ _Tomorrow's events shall be extremely trying. I will stay awake and guard the tower against any intrusions, so please do not fear to rest._

Lydia nodded and let the demon sit beside her and cradle her in his arms. Her mind was still, finally having run out of energy to race ahead of itself. Her heart hurt. She could feel it twisting inside her chest, vexed and perplexed by the finality of humans' actions, the forever-ness of it all. What had been done could not be changed. And deep inside herself, she knew that whatever the prefects had been trying to do with the bodies of their schoolmates had been terribly futile. The dead could never truly reawaken, not in this world, anyway. She fell into a melancholy slumber upon the demon's shoulder.

/

The next morning, Sebastian woke her twenty minutes before the bell for turn-out tolled, and gracefully took his leave to report for his final day as housemaster of Sapphire Owl. Violet lay deep in slumber as Lydia carefully unbound him and focused on the familiar interior of Blue House's great room. It was dark and deserted when they arrived. Lydia hurriedly laid Violet upon one of the couches and removed his blindfold, turning to peer out the window at the unusual bustle and noise from the grounds. Even at this early hour, pedestrians and carriages were lined up outside the gates of Weston, waiting for the morning bell to grant them entrance to the prestigious college's most storied tradition. The Fourth of June tournament was about to commence, and the prefects were out of time. They had already lost.

Turning to take a last look at the thin creature on the couch, Lydia decided to let Violet sleep in peace for as long as he had left. Bluewer would find him soon, and then there would be no going back. Pressing her lips together sadly, Lydia left him and stepped into the hallway, taking one final walk around Blue House before turning into thin air and vanishing as the clamoring of bells began to sound.


	41. Just a Moment

**Another chapter is upon us!**

**This one's just a short-ish interlude piece to set us up for the action in the next few chapters. The authoress hopes you like it, and please review...as a birthday present! (Really, I did just celebrate my birthday. Every year it always gets upstaged by Halloween.) XD**

"That's it, then. He's won."

Lydia smiled to herself as she watched people running madly about in the cricket field below. Perched on the rooftop of the administration building, she had spent the entire day watching the matches, since there was really nowhere else for her to go. Her solitude was occasionally broken by Sebastian appearing to offer her food or inquire if she needed a coat, but the demon was very busy and he hardly had time to stand still. To be honest, the matches had been more suspenseful than she had anticipated. She had spent the entirety of them waiting for something to go wrong, since everything that could go wrong seemed to have been doing so since they had arrived at Weston. However, this time the drama had been strictly limited to what could be expected from a normal cricket tournament. Red House unexpectedly dropped out, pushing Blue House ahead, and then Green House had squarely beaten Purple House to move into the finals. Violet had told her when they first met that he was not interested in cricket, but the way he wandered dazedly about the field, one would think he hardly knew there was a game going on. He was probably terrified, Lydia thought, feeling a twinge of sympathy before determinedly pushing it down to concentrate on the final match, Blue House vs Green House. This was the key to everything they had been working toward.

Ciel held his end up remarkably well, she thought, considering all the concerns she'd had about him even being on the house team. In the end, however, it was Blue House's strategies and not their athleticism that won them the game. The hardest part of the match for Lydia was the final second, when Greenhill's bat grazed her brother's forehead with a sound that carried clear up to the rooftops. It made her flinch and grind her teeth together. Greenhill could have run, but he did not. He simply stood there, staring at the bloody mark marring the head of the boy he had struck, looking like he was lost in another world. Then Ciel crawled to his knees- just enough to lunge forward and throw the ball into their wicket- and the game was finished. Lydia watched everyone running- players, spectators, even members of other houses- euphoric at being present for Blue House's first tournament victory since Vincent Cantor had led them as prefect.

Now Lydia was staring at the medical tent into which Sebastian had carried Ciel as soon as the win had been declared. Had she not known that the entire "accident" had been meticulously planned, she might have risked leaping down into the tent to investigate Ciel's condition. But he would be all right. Sebastian would not let him be hurt. As if to confirm her thoughts, the tent flap opened and her brother strode steadily outside, the black-clad butler looming behind him. His team members lifted him up as if greeting a returning hero, and the crowd carried him with them to the front of the field, screaming, cheering, a cacophony of energy. She was too far away to see the expression on Ciel's face. She imagined he did not enjoy being held by so many strangers, but she also knew he would not break character at such a critical moment. She could see the Phantomhive servants in the background, cheering and stamping their feet. Lizzie and her mother and father, Aunt Angelina, Soma and McMillan, Edward and Cheslock- she suddenly wished she had a camera so she could take a picture of her brother surrounded by all these happy people, doing something any normal boy his age would do. She smiled, fixing the image in her mind before turning away to let Ciel have his moment of glory, however unreal it would later prove to be.

/

Several hours later, the crowds had spread from the field onto the grounds and the members of the Blue House team had retreated inside to prepare themselves for their formal boat parade up the Thames. Everyone was eating dinner as the evening hour approached. Soon afterward, there would be lanterns and music and dancing upon the sprawling lawns of Weston. Lydia was feeling a little lonely up on the roof, but she had taken a book of poetry from her rucksack and lost herself within its melancholy pages. Dusk would arrive before she knew it, and after that the dark…. The brunette peered tentatively into her rucksack, eyeing the drawstring ticket pouch she had received yesterday in London. She had discussed the matter with Sebastian several hours earlier, when he had a few moments to spare. As she'd expected, the demon was opposed to her going anywhere without him. Lydia, however, was just as strongly opposed to taking him with her and leaving Ciel behind unattended. In the end, they had done nothing but argue until Sebastian was needed back in the tents. The frustrated demon had made her promise to think it over more thoroughly, which she had been doing as she mulled upon the rooftop while the sky slowly dimmed. Now, as the first signs of stars began to pierce the fading blue, she had made up her mind. She was going to investigate the circus on her own tonight. Solving the Weston case would mean very little if they left the school only to return to an equally baffling and dangerous situation in their own homes. It was seven o'clock right now. She had one hour before she had determined to leap to the fairgrounds.

Lydia had just begun to feel her nerves tilting when the sound of footsteps on the rooftop stairwell triggered her peripheral senses. Crouching low behind a vent, she clutched at her bandaged arm and watched a blonde head of hair materialize above the steps. For one mad moment, she thought of Derrick Arden- and then the face belonging to the head appeared, and she relaxed in consummate relief. It was Edward, peering carefully about the rooftop for signs of habitation. The brunette stood and waved, and he acknowledged her with a smile. "You've been up here all along, then?"

"Yes, since this morning. It was quite a tournament."

"I'd say so. People will be talking about this one for years." He had changed out of his cricket clothes and into formal attire, his green tie emblazoned upon his chest. "I know I ought to be sorry Green House lost, but I can't quite manage it. We're used to winning in this arena. Blue House needed it far more than we did."

"You all played very well. You almost had Ciel, you know." Lydia laughed and returned to her perch on the ledge, indicating for Edward to join her. "I almost can't believe we really pulled it off."

Edward nodded, his face becoming serious. "So, with this victory….you have what you need to move forward, correct?"

"Yes." The brunette nodded stoically. "I have no doubt that Ciel has earned his invitation to the midnight tea party tonight. There, our case will finally be opened for all to see. You will be there with Greenhill, so I was wondering….I mean, Sebastian will be nearby, of course, in case anything should happen, but…." Lydia bit her lip softly. "Might I ask you to keep an extra eye upon Ciel, just in case I am….delayed in arriving?"

"Of course," Edward nodded smoothly, settling onto the cool stone beside her. "You needn't feel you have to ask. I want to see you two safely through this case to the end." The young nobleman cast his eyes over the lawn on which the students were beginning to gather. "Even if that means….everything at Weston will change."

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," Lydia murmured, staring at her folded hands. "I-"

"Don't apologize!" Edward exclaimed, startling her out of her gloomy reverie. "There's nothing you have to apologize for. You're doing the right thing, Lydia. I know that now. Actually….it's me who ought to apologize, really….that I wasn't able to do more to help you and Ciel."

"You had to go to school, and maintain your cover as well. I never expected you to give your full attention to our case. And you had your duties as Greenhill's fag…." Lydia trailed off as an ominous shadow crossed Edward's face. "How….has Greenhill been?" she questioned tentatively.

Edward sighed and, without warning, laid back suddenly upon the wide expanse of stone, staring straight up into the sky. Lydia gave him time to sort his words out of his mind. "Greenhill is….he is not….the man I thought he was. Not the man I respected when I agreed to be his fag. And the most difficult thing for me during all of this, harder than telling untruths or harboring outsiders, has been just….admitting that to myself." Edward closed his eyes and let the wind stir his hair. "I really thought he was the man I wanted to be."

They were silent for a long time, listening to the sounds of excitement rising from below as the Blue House team began to emerge in procession and march down to the docks, where they would board their boats and row to present their victory to the Queen. Although the light was fading in the sky, she could make out the figures of the three prefects- Redmond, Greenhill, and Violet- waiting to be joined by Bluewer at the steps. She wondered what they felt, knowing she was out here, watching them. She wondered if they understood how quickly the only life they knew was drawing to an end.

"I'm sorry that he wasn't," Lydia finally replied, tugging at the collar of her Weston uniform. "If it's any consolation….I think you're well on your way to becoming that man on your own merits."

Edward shifted his shoulders and sat up. "I….I don't really know what to say. I suppose I do the best I can. I'm just an ordinary person at a school filled with natural geniuses, so I often have no idea where I stand in comparison to them. They overshadow me so much, their shadows totally eclipse mine. Even so….I don't think any of us could hold a candle to you."

"Me?" Lydia asked in surprise as he smiled faintly. "I'm not a genius either. It took me forever to decide what I wanted to do with my life. Sometimes I'm still completely baffled. The fact that I have an education and a career is just-"

"Amazing, if you ask me," Edward finished bluntly. "Honestly, Lydia….when you left five years ago, no one knew what would become of you. In my family, we assumed the worst. After all, you had none of the advantages we were born with, and you'd been treated so badly in your own home…. But now….meeting you again has been like meeting you for the first time. You've remade yourself. In spite of everything, you've become someone kind and strong and happy. And then you came back to share that with your brother. I hope this doesn't sound odd, but…." Edward cleared his throat and ventured to meet her eyes. "….It makes me proud to look at you."

Lydia blushed chaotically and wracked her brain to think of a response. It was nothing doing. Coming from Edward Midford, who since childhood had been respected for his pride and honor, this was high praise indeed. Fortunately, at that moment Edward's eyes lit up and he leaned toward the ledge. "Ah look, they're lighting the lanterns!"

Lydia looked, and beheld a luminescent river reflecting paper-wrapped starlight. She had never seen so many lanterns lit at once. They floated along the river beside the Blue House boat, headed away from the school to where the Queen would receive them. In the boat's front bow, Lydia saw a small silhouette standing still as a figurehead, holding a bundle of flowers in his arms. She smiled and wished Ciel well as he went his way tonight.

From down below, a strain of music blossomed into a song as the first dances of the evening began. Lydia and Edward perked up at the same time as a familiar tune drifted up like smoke. "I'm sure I know this," Edward remarked interestedly. "It wasn't originally written as a song, though…."

"It was a poem by Bourdillon." Lydia nodded gently. "Set to music just a few years ago, I think. It's a bit tragic, but there's something in it that pleases me."

"I can almost hear the words." Edward closed his bright green eyes. "Doesn't it begin with, "The night has a thousand eyes….""

"And the day but one," Lydia followed, allowing her voice to catch the melody. "Yet the light of the bright world dies/ With the dying sun."

"Yes, that's it! And the second verse has the same tune." Edward nodded eagerly and they found themselves grinning at each other in a kind of shared merriment. It reminded Lydia strongly of their days as children, when one of them (usually herself,) was always dragging the other into some kind of unusual mischief.

She closed her eyes and smiled. "You have a good voice," she said, trying not to let herself sound too surprised. Coming from someone who aspired to be athletic, she would not have thought to count singing among his talents.

Edward shrugged abashedly. "I sing in the tenor section of my Church's choir. It's quite a lot of people, so they keep me on-key. What about you, do you….?"

"I don't sing in my choir," Lydia shook her head amusedly. "I mostly sing when I'm alone in the wilderness. There's nothing quite like an empty valley with a song to fill it. You can hear your own voice for miles, coming from every direction at once."

"It sounds ethereal." Edward smiled and gently nudged her shoulder. "What say we sing it again? This time as a round. I'll take the first line, you take the second, I'll take the third, and we'll both take the fourth. Remember how we used to sing nursery rhymes that way?"

"Let's see," Lydia said, and for the rest of the hour she and Edward did just that, relaxing between ground and sky and giving voice to a long-remembered tune from their childhood. The notes rang out alone and then entwined, and although there was no one else to hear them, they practiced again and again until their pitches harmonized perfectly. They sang the melancholy tune, occasionally interspersing it with bouts of natural laughter, until they had forgotten to fear the coming night.

The night has a thousand eyes,

_And the day but one;_

Yet the light of the bright world dies

_With the dying sun._

The mind has a thousand eyes,

_And the heart but one;_

Yet the light of a whole life dies

_When love is done. _


End file.
